CHAPTER ONE
THE SISTERS
Amelia had always lived on the fringes of society, deep within the gnarled forest. She was constantly aware of her enchanted land’s needs. She inhabited the woods with her extended family by blood and by a common goal. The coven was a loyal group of men and women, all with the united focus of safeguarding the surrounding land. They were consistently hidden away in the shadows and dappled sunlight where they lived almost invisible to the outside world. Amelia’s dark reputation as the coven’s leader sent shivers through the townsfolk who were brave enough to speak her name. The coven was a known secret, one that was only whispered about in hushed voices. Everybody knew that the dangerous but secluded coven lived in a forbidden part of the dense forest but nobody ever spoke of them for fear of retribution. The stories that circulated through town about them had both fact and fiction. There were always embellishments by the locals who claimed to have survived an encounter, always making themselves seem like heroes. The townies went about their days oblivious to the true magic that anchored Amelia and her family to the land for centuries. The secrets lay bound to the coven in the arcane blackness. Always under the watchful eyes of generations past, Amelia would live her life respectfully honoring tradition.
Surrounded by the eerie whispering of the forest, Amelia gathered her coven. It was time for their weekly adoration and respect for Mother Nature. Each member, enteried in silence, their heads down; only the top of their hooded cloaks were visible. They all bore scars, both emotional and physical but together they created one bonded unit. As one they would cast intricate spells that held them together through sacrifice and blood. Being a lunar based coven they held fast to the cycles of the celestial orb. They drew their power from the very essence of the lunar phases and the forest as well as each other. The upcoming Autumnal Equinox in about two weeks always held special meaning. This year the harvest moon would rapidly rise in the night sky concurrently, heralding in the sacred Mabon festival. Their sacrifices had to be immaculate because of the incredible merging coming in a little more than a month. The ladies knew that in a little over thirty days, it would be time for the blood moon and Samhain to occur on the same night. This alignment was extraordinary. The perfect way to ring in the cherished, enchanted new year and welcome the dark half of the year. Two incredible merging events happening within a month of each other had the seers preparing for the great arrival. Their sacrifices and the festivals would usher in a new beginning for the coven and all mankind. All haunting truths that lay underground would soon be revealed.
Beatrix emerged from the shadows like a wisp of smoke. Her presence shrouded in an aura of mystery. Tall and thin with raven hair cascading down her slender back, she moved with a graceful confidence that left a mark on all who beheld her. Her eyes, the color of deep amethyst, sparkled with an otherworldly wisdom that hinted at the secrets buried within her soul. As the younger sister to Amelia, Beatrix bore the weight of lineage and expectation with a quiet determination and stealthy confidence. While her sibling was known for her unwavering strength and outspoken resolve, Beatrix’s powers manifested in subtler ways. She possessed an uncanny ability to commune with nature, coaxing life from barren soil. She could weave spells and incantations as gentle as a summer breeze. Yet, beneath her serene exterior, a storm of turmoil swirled within. Beatrix’s path was bound to destiny and its intricate web. Her role in the unfolding tale of the coven was far from ordinary. She held a deep connection with the elemental forces of fire and earth, able to wield them at any second. These gifts were inherited from their mother. Amelia, an opposite of Beatrix, could harness the powers of water and air making her an incredible healer.
Beatrix’s connection to her sister ran deep, their bond forged not only by blood but by the shared tribulations of the coven. Their bonds of family went deeper than most sibling connections, they were bonded through their elemental prowess. Their love for each other was palpable to anyone that was around the duo. Amelia, with her fierce determination, had always been the shield of the coven and its leader. While Beatrix, the enigmatic witch, acted as its heart and sometimes as its executioner. Together, they balanced the scales of power and compassion within the sisterhood. The constant adoration for nature was continual as Mother Nature could be a ferocious contender in the ever evolving world of the planet. Their blood ensured the coven’s survival in a world where their powers were often misunderstood and often pursued with the malicious intent of eradicating the coven.
In the moonlit chambers of their ancestral home, nestled deep within the thick forest, Beatrix could often be found pouring over ancient scrolls. Her insatiable need for answers gave her an unwavering quest for knowledge. Her searching extended far beyond the ordinary realms of witchcraft. She harbored a fascination with the forgotten, the forbidden and the untamed. It was this unquenchable thirst for understanding that set her on a path rife with uncertainty. One that would challenge the very foundations of their magical heritage and redefine the destiny of the ancient coven.
This selective group of mystics can trace their heritage through centuries of whispered charms in languages eons dead along with silent communion with the natural world. Their sacred grove, in the heart of the forest, held an enormous oak. The witches called this oak the “Invoking Tree”. Its gnarled branches seemed to reach out like ancient, arthritic fingers. It was as if the tree was beckoning to those with the power to feel it’s calling. On certain nights, when the wind and moon were right, the old oak would seem to come alive with magic. Its bioluminescent aura would only appear to those with the power to harness it. The coven was composed of skilled herbalists, masters of forest lore, astronomists and adept practitioners of ancient rituals. These men and women whispered invocations and silent communications with the natural world. Each member was able to see and feel the mighty oak when it called for the coven, some could feel the vibration of the planet. The witches that harnessed even a small amount of power over the land were intune to the slight, mufflied feelings of the planet. They empathized with the Earth. Their existence remained a tantalizing secret deep within the ancient woods that intrigued some of the locals. They dare not go into the forest for fear of encountering Amelia, Beatrix or the coven.
The “Great Calling” was rapidly approaching and Amelia knew that they needed worthy sacrifices for the harvest moon and Mabon festival as well as the blood moon and Samhain festival. These chosen had to be suitable to be accepted by the planet and by their beloved moon. The sisters stood at the edge of their sprawling territory looking down onto the small
hamlet.The frost on the snow capped mountains created cascading rainbows onto the fall foliage below. The colors of red, yellow and orange glistened in the morning sun. The Carpathian mountains in the fall were extraordinary, Mother Nature liberally applied the colors. The sisters looked at each other trying to decide which house held their candidates. Amelia pointed at a home that was occupied by a family with four sons. Beatrix and Amelia looked at each other and nodded. They needed to be sure, Beatrix tilted her head back and began to chant softly. She needed to connect to the land first and then to the roots of the Invoking Tree. They would have to capture two of the brothers. One for the sacrifice for the harvest moon festival and the other for the blood moon festival. Their selections needed to be ideal for their ceremonial offering to be accepted. The first of the dedications, at the Mabon festival, would set the stage for Samhain and the blood moon. The sisters hoped that their choices would be suitable for the old ways to return with Samhain. Beatrix lowered her head as her eyes rolled over to bright blue, she was connected to the Invoking Tree. She was ready to begin.
Beatrix closed her eyes and started the incantation. From the depths of the forest an alluring melody began to beckon from inside the trees. A haunting tune, played on otherworldly instruments began to weave its hypnotic beat with voices floating among the music. The Invoking Tree began to slightly vibrate and a low, deep hum began to reverberate from its long tendril branches. It shook violently while small iridescent globs fell to the ground. They floated up and out towards the sisters. As the music weaved its spell, the soft ethereal balls of light began to appear within the branches of the forest. These mythical floating orbs began to drift down onto the tiny village. They serpentined through the streets below; finally settling above the home of the brothers. They hovered in unison as the siren song began to get louder. The iridescent lights began to merge together as one. With one loud pulse and a scream from the floating voices the vivid, blinding blue sphere vanished. The ground was now seasoned for the invasion of the two sisters, who were focused on retrieving their bounty.
Beatrice, her strength weakening, crumpled to the ground. She landed on the forest floor in a blanket of fallen leaves, her cloak covering her like a chrysalis. From within her cocoon, thick billowing smoke began to rise into the foggy forest. It began to throb in rhythmic pulses. Amelia ran to her sister’s side, trying to lift her up. Beatrix was barely able to have her legs under her. They embraced as the black smoke dissipated and vanished into the air.
Amelia lifted her sister’s head up to hers, “What the hell was that?”
“I have…no…idea” Beatrix was hanging onto her sister’s shoulder. “I can feel the almost mystical hum of the Earth. It’s a subtle vibration. Can you feel it?”
“Barely, but our powers lie in different domains. We are equally powerful, dear sister,” she caused a slight breeze to cool Beatrix’s sweaty brow. “See?” They both smiled at each other. “Let me help you, we have a lot of gathering and casting before the harvest moon.” She sighed loudly. “Then we need to get ready for Samhain. The coven needs you. Here, lay back down.”
Amelia gently helped her sister lie down on a bed of sweet moss. Amelia loosened Beatrix’s cloak and rubbed her hands on her sister’s neck. She could sense that she had a few broken ribs along with a broken wrist. Amelia rubbed her palms together, tossed her head back and began to quietly chant. She swayed back and forth, her hair blowing back as the wind swirled around her. She lifted her glowing palms to the heavens and jolt ran through her body making her briefly contort. With her eyes rolled over white Amelia gently placed her hands on Beatrix, a soft glow began to manifest. The light began to grow brighter, rapidly casting a warm, healing light. A bright shine emitted as she began to heal her sister. The glow slowly dissipated and Amelia collapsed beside her sister.
“See? I told you we were equally powerful.” They both chuckled then hugged on the moss. The rising orange sun began to come completely over the mountains illuminating the community in the valley. The townsfolk would be awake soon and the small village would become a bustling, rural hamlet.
Beatrix lifted herself up on her elbow, “We have planted the seeds, now we must wait, Mother Nature will let us know when the time is right to reap our rewards. We will need all the powers of the sisters to complete our destiny.” Amelia nodded and stood, she held out her rough hand and Beatrix grabbed it to stand. They vanished into the forest, hand in hand, their cloaks blowing in the breeze behind them.
CHAPTER 2
MORGAN AND NATHALIA
Amelia and Beatrix’s father, Morgan, was a very powerful presence in their lives. As a warlock, one of his greatest powers was his ability to manipulate time, allowing him tiny glimpses to not only the past but the future as well. He could freeze or accelerate events when necessary. His bloodline ran deep within the fabric of the coven. The ancestral blood that ran through him was a bond to generations of witches and warlocks that stretched for hundreds of years. His unparalleled knowledge and wisdom were passed down through generations, enabling him to tap into ancient spells. The arcane secrets he kept hidden could be locked into with ease. As the leader of the coven it was his solemn duty to ensure the safety of not only the witches and warlocks but the planet as well. He would never tolerate any disrespect to the land, water or air. His reputation as a no-nonsense commander was known in the town below. The townsfolk knew he was always watching, always present whether he was physically there or not.
The coven was made up of three original families that all intertwined and married blending powers and skills. There were never any outsiders permitted to marry into the coven. The bloodlines must remain pure. Careful planning and arranged marriages kept their genetic code unadulterated and the parents’ powers diligently melded for the needs of the coven.
Morgan was somewhat of a prodigy at an early age. His parents knew that he was extremely powerful and would only advise him when he approached for guidance. He was the most dominant warlock born in generations, rivalring his father’s prowess. Being able to enchant his toys when he was a toddler that graduated into arson when he became a teenager. An unruly adolescent his fire making was only kept in check by his grandmother who harnessed the power to conjure water from thin air. She was a strict and very powerful water elemental. With her guidance and training he became more and more powerful. She taught him that the adoration for nature was paramount. She knew that if Mother Nature ever turned on them it would be the end of the coven. The prophecy would not be fulfilled putting all of mankind in jeopardy. Once he became an adult he could perform almost all of the ancient rituals and knew the secrets. His grandmother coached his abilities to the surface, she cultivated his extreme power. Morgan needed her calming presence to keep his ego and rage in check. He was prone to bouts of melancholy that would soar into an almost blind frenzy. His grandmother taught him how to navigate his authoritative spirit. He had some treasured skills to use but his time manipulation was his favorite. If he didn’t believe something happened he would look back in time to confirm the information; an invaluable skill.
Morgan possessed an olive complexion and shared the same jet-black hair as his daughter, Beatrix. Their striking resemblance was often remarked upon by those that knew them. When they were together they would regularly mirror each other’s movements, causing smiles from those present. Morgan was very tall and very thin, his long fingers added an air of elegance and mystique to his appearance. Beatrix, too, was very tall and lanky, yet still had the cute figure of a woman. They seemed to blend in with the trees as they glided through the forest.
Amelia and Beatrix’s mother, Nathalia, was also very powerful in her own right. As an elemental manipulator she possessed the extraordinary ability to control and distort the fundamental elements; fire, earth, water and air. She was able to make the slightest, controlled flame for reading and warmth. But, she could also conjure a raging inferno to be used as either defense or offense. Her elemental prowess was unmatched. Whether summoning torrents of water, shaking the earth beneath their feet, conjuring flames or controlling air currents, her proficiency was exceptional. She possessed the extraordinary ability to defy gravity, allowing her to hover above the ground. Her power granted a freedom of movement that other witches did not possess, this skill was one of her favorites. Being the coven’s Shaman, she was also a great healer. Nathalia had the remarkable ability to channel the energies of the natural world. Her elemental prowess, over the water and air, when hyper focused and harnessed help to facilitate powerful healing. Her mending skill was deeply rooted in the traditions and the old ways of the coven. She could repair physical ailments, soothe emotional needs and bring balance to those that needed her.
Nathalia had long, dirty blonde, waist length hair that cascaded in gentle curls framing her delicate and pretty features. Her bright green eyes seemed to hold a world of wisdom and ancient mystery in the depths of color. She had a petite and graceful frame which added to her overall charm and presence. She may have been small but she was a fierce fighter for the coven and her family.
They were purposely chosen to be husband and wife but, more importantly, to produce offspring. Morgan was a seventh son of a seventh son and the coven wanted seven sons from his line. The pairing of powers would merge into children that could fulfill the coven’s destiny. The time for the coven to make a great transformation was approaching. With exceptional astrology sisters that read the stars and symbols, they could feel the great rising was almost upon them. The heavens spoke to the seers and their connection to celestial bodies allowed them to foresee possible futures. They could also guide and empower the coven with their magical practices and foresight.
The first born of the many siblings was Amelia. The arrival of Amelia was a unique blend of elemental and immense power that carried with it a new reign for the mystical family of witches. The awe-inspiring display of power when she finally made her appearance to the world was unforgettable to those present. Minutes after being born, Amelia rose out of the midwife’s arms and floated over to Nathalia. All present were captivated and bowed their heads in respect to the precious yet potent gift before them.
Nathalia and Morgan would have eight children, Beatrix being the last. Then Nathalia was murdered by an envious lower level witch. Being consumed by jealousy, she plotted an evil scheme to end Nathalia’s life. She kept it hidden away in her mind and never thought about it. Her thoughts could be sensed by a seer. With a deadly and unexpected strike, this jealous witch caught Nathalia alone and off guard. She approached her as a friend not a foe. She followed Nathalia on the path to the Invoking Tree. Nathalia could sense what was happening and tried to turn around but wasn’t quick enough. The betrayer slammed an enchanted blade into the small of Nathalia’s back. Blood poured from the wound as the witch looked into the mortally wounded eyes of Nathalia. She watched and smiled while life ran out of her eyes. This envious act brought her life to a tragic and heartbreaking end. The devastating strike left the world of the coven forever changed.
Morgan made it his life mission to find and eradicate the witch responsible for his wife’s demise. In a climactic showdown, Morgan along with the rest of the coven engaged in a fierce battle against the killer and her followers. With their collective strength and determination they overpowered the murderer and the other betrayers. They harnessed all of their powers and flushed out other conspirators. Their capture would purge the coven of toxicity and return the sacred bond needed for the survival of the family. Justice would be served. The punishment would be a cleansing by fire.
The sacred ritual to remove an injustice performed by one witch onto another of her coven was always burning at the stake. The heretics would suffer extreme punishment of being burned alive. The consuming flames would clean the coven of the condemned and their malicious spirits. With the removal of the poisonous influence, the family would rebound stronger and more harmoniously. The coven’s vengeance was not just an act of retribution but a testament to the bond of their loyal, magical family. The unwavering commitment to protecting their own was unmatched even from forces within their own community.
The children, after their mother’s death, made it impossible for such a thing to happen again. They required weekly meetings with Amelia where she would read their thoughts. Beatrix was always by her side, her arms crossed, glaring at each person. She could sense if there were any conspiracies floating around. Beatrix’s power was not as great as Amelia’s when penetrating someone’s mind. Beatrix went more on instinct than power. It was a double look into the psyches of the other members. They would be able to uncover any deadly assassination plot before it could come to fruition. Together, they ensured the safety of the coven from forces not only from the outside but from its interior as well. This created a balanced upbringing and a harmonious family dynamic for future generations.
As the siblings grew the bond between the oldest and youngest grew. The coven nurtured and encouraged them to use their powers in unison. The bond between them was extraordinary, it mirrored the delicate balance in nature. Amelia with her ability to control water and air provided a calming to her gruff exterior. Beatrix’s mastery over the earth and fire brought just sheer power. Their powers, though different, complemented each other seamlessly. This allowed them to harmonize the elements and secure an unbreakable bond. Together they were a formidable, unstoppable force that watched over the coven.
Morgan was crushed by the devastating loss of Nathalia. Heartbroken beyond measure, his health declined rapidly. He stopped using his magical abilities and faded away. Unable to bear the weight of his grief he ultimately succumbed to his shattered heart, a mere shell of his former self. His death was felt throughout the coven, it pushed through like a thick fog towards the Invoking Tree. It slowly wafted up and vanished into the ancient branches as the guardian shuddered, slowly at first then vibrating faster and faster. The Invoking tree shook violently; all of its leaves falling off in concert as a high pitched wail was heard.
The tragedy of losing the dominant couple within a short period of time sent shockwaves through the family. Amelia and her siblings were left to carry on the legacy of their powerful lineage. A task that they took very seriously. Although Amelia and Beatrix were the most powerful, the other six siblings were just as strong in their own right.
Four of siblings possessed unique elemental powers, each distinct from the others. But together they could tap into the four elements in tandem. The remaining two siblings held powers beyond the classical elements. One had a connection to the spirit world, tapping into realms unseen. While the last sibling possessed a rare power over the balance between light and darkness, bringing illumination or shadow at will. Together, their diverse abilities created a formidable family of elemental practitioners, each contributing their unique strength.
CHAPTER 3
THE ABDUCTION
The sisters embarked on their wondrous journey to abduct the brothers. As they walked through the forest they were silent, both contemplating the solemn requirement for the ceremonies. They came to the edge of their territory and both emitted a cleansing sigh. They stood at the rim of a rocky cliff. The steep drop off gave a breathtaking view of the valley below. The surrounding mountains were covered in perfect autumn colors. From the deep burgundy to the bright yellow, the vivid colors were a reminder of how majestic the Carpathian mountains were this time of the year. They harnessed their abilities in unison and gracefully descended from the forest’s edge. With a combination of floating, hovering and flying, they made their way down towards the small hamlet at the base of the mountain. Their magical presence had to remain hidden. The townsfolk would not be welcoming. Their lives as well as the lives of the coven depended on them staying in the shadows. At least for now, the villagers needed to be kept in the dark. The time to fight an approaching evil was upon them and the coven needed no distractions.
As the colors of dusk began to stain the sky with hues of orange and purple, the sisters patiently waited in the tranquil embrace of the nearby forest. Their magical energies, now fully restored from the trip, were attuned to the shifting rhythms of nature. It was a peaceful moment, filled with anticipation for what the night would bring.
Shrouded in a cloak of shadows, created by Amelia, they moved quietly. The sisters stealthily approached the edge of the town. Their movements kept concealed by the growing darkness of night. Their silent grace and magical prowess made it easy for them to effortlessly reach their destination. The soft glow of the lights from within the small cabin reflected on the damp grass. Delicate shadows moved through the muted illumination, their figures seemed to dance in the moonlight. The warm, lingering aroma of dinner served earlier was tantalizing their senses. It was a stark contrast to the corrupt purpose that had brought them to this place and under the cover of night.
Amelia stood in the darkness of the front porch, her hair billowing behind her. Her long coat swirling around her like a cloak. In the blackness, she lifted her hands with her palms facing the door. She took a deep breath and let out a cleansing sigh. Amelia knew her destiny was about to intersect with the inhabitants of this house. A slight gesture of her hand and the door swung open. The creaking of the door echoed through the silence of the night. The sound seemed alien and deafening in the stillness. The sisters stepped into the house surprising the mother who was washing dishes. She spun around and tried to scream but only a shallow, gravel sound came out. Her protective motherly instincts now fully awakened, she ran into the other room to protect her children. Her husband sprang from the sofa eyeing the shotgun that was by the back door. He sprinted towards the weapon, Beatrix lifted her hand pulling the man off of his feet. The shocked man dangled upside down. Beatrix tilted her head staring at him as she swung him back and forth. She slammed him into the immense stone fireplace with a spine shattering sound. He crashed to the floor; blood oozed from his ears and a shallow moan came from him. He began to convulse as white foam dribbled out of his mouth. He twitched and jerked around mesmerizing Beatrix. The wife ran while the attention was on her husband, and grabbed the shotgun. She shakily raised it, tears streaming down her face and fired. She let out a small yelp as the kickback knocked her to the ground. Buckshot sprayed out into the room striking Amelia in the face. Blood and teeth splattered onto the wall, a puddle of maroon gore began to form around her, staining her shoes. Her agonizing scream pierced the night, echoing through as the intense pain gripped her. She fell to her knees with a gush of blood from her face. She closed her remaining eye and began to chant softly. Amelia harnessed her immense healing power making her hands glow. She gently placed her radiant hands on her face. She fell sideways as the blood splashed around her. She contorted and flexed on the floor as she healed her face.
While Amelia was healing herself, Beatrix screamed and centered her rage on the eldest son. She was engulfed in a wave of wrath intertwined with madness seeing her sister being shot. She lifted the mother and pinned her in the air against the wall. Beatrix’s emotions rolled like a tempest, breathing heavily, her eyes rolled over black. The oldest son was locked in place by the formidable, vengeful sister. He was near the fireplace desperately trying to move his feet, wanting to get to his father. He looked down at his dad with tears streaming down his face and then back to Beatrix. Her head snapped down staring at the son and her eyes quickly rolled back over to their stunning amethyst color. She glared at him with nothing but malice in her heart. With a flick of her fingers toward him, smoke began to float out of the bottoms of his feet. Blue flames started and rapidly rose up his torso, his disturbing whimpering made Beatrix smile. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Her sanity began to slip as her psychotic laughter echoed through the night. Amelia, now fully healed, touched Beatrix on the shoulder, breaking her madness. Her warm healing touch brought her sister back from the brink of losing control of her powers.
“You shot me! I can’t believe it!” She screamed at the mother.The utter surprise on her face was evident. She looked at Beatrix, “I’m shocked! She shot me!” Amelia took control of the mother from Beatrix, bringing the mother close to her face. She hissed through closed teeth, hitting the mother in the face with spittle as she spoke. “You see this? No damage!” She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, you will know suffering. I guarantee it!” She lifted her into the air and into the middle of the room. The mother’s feet dangled at odd angles. Beatrix used her formidable telekinetic powers and held the remaining three boys on the couch. They watched in awe and trepidation unsure what they were going to do to them. Beatrix looked over at Amelia, a broad smile on her face and nodded.
Amelia was extremely focused and slowly pulled the mother’s legs and arms out to the sides. The popping sounds of joints being dislocated was deafening. She was sure to pop them one by one to inflict the maximum amount of pain. When the final shoulder joint unhinged, Amelia and Beatrix looked at each other and found themselves in a momentary bout of laughter. It was a brief hiatus from the carnage that they continued to inflict on this unsuspecting family. Amelia’s eyes swept the room only pausing when her gaze landed on the shotgun. An evil grin ran across her face. She mentally lifted the shotgun as rage filled her psyche. She paused and regained some control over her immense power. The mother began to beg and plead for her life and the lives of her remaining three boys. Beatrix laughed and spun in a circle as she danced to the vibrant music playing in her head. She abruptly stopped dancing and watched Amelia. The shotgun stood under the mother. The butt of the weapon was on the floor and the two barrels were aimed at the mother. Amelia smiled as the shotgun rammed up into the mother and fired. Pieces of her splattered around the room, blood splashed and ran down as Amelia summoned her power over water. A cascade of blood, under her control, added an extra macabre layer to the already horrific scene. She made the blood roll and bubble into a wave as it splashed down onto the remaining sons’ feet.The middle brother began to lose control of his sanity. Uncontrollably laughing and crying at the same time; tears, spittle and snot ran down his face. He screamed, cried and laughed making a macabre sound. The sisters paused and listened to it briefly. The noise was just exacerbating the tension in the room. Beatrix looked at the boy, tilted her head and snapped his neck. He fell to the floor in a limp heap while a sickening wet thud briefly filled the room. Little crimson polka dots landed on the pants of the remaining boys. Beatrix chuckled. The two women looked at each other and smiled broadly. They had just harnessed their powers and acquired their prizes. The two youngest boys, twins, would be perfect for the sacrifices needed to be able to fight the great evil that was approaching. Their blonde hair and blue eyes were a stark contrast to the sisters. Their perfect features mirrored each other. Amelia knew that they would have to make a contribution to the Invoking Tree for guiding them to identical twins.
The sobbing twins clung to each other. At the tender age of ten, they were terrified. Beatrix, covered in their mother’s blood, brought the boys to her. In a trance-like state, they went willingly. She tousled their hair with blood stained hands. A momentary maternal emotion emitted from Beatrix.
Amelia, fully aware that her and her sister’s actions along with the sounds they produced were being heard by the townspeople. Unapologetic, they remained determined in their journey to bring back their valuable assets to the coven. Amelia purposely allowed the townsfolk to get a quick glimpse of them fleeing with the children. She wanted them to know that it was their coven that caused this mayhem. She wanted the residents to piece the puzzle together as to who the true enemies were. She knew that their mission of overcoming this adversary was only beginning and together they would control the outcome, uniting their powers for a greater purpose. She knew that the townspeople would eventually see that the coven was not the greatest threat.
Beatrix’s gaze never left the twins as they walked through the forest. She couldn’t help but be fascinated by the almost telepathic connection between them. Her curiosity was piqued as she wondered how far this unseen bridge extended.
As they reached the base of the mountain, Amelia with her great control over the wind, gracefully floated them upward. They left the ground below as the twins reached for each other simultaneously. Beatrix was completely enthralled by them. Her incredible control of the twins and their emotions needed to slip to see how the twins would react. She allowed them to fall suddenly and rapidly, unleashing a momentary adrenaline rush. Simultaneously, the twins both gave a quick scream, Beatrix watched with ever growing curiosity. Her excitement buzzed within her like a bolt of lightning. They ascended the mountain toward the heart of their territory. Beatrix couldn’t wait to share what she had learned watching the twins with Amelia.
Back in their own territory, the family gathered the coven members to discuss their findings and formulate a plan for the coming festivals. Amelia and Beatrix housed the twins in a secure bedroom. They had been fed and placed in their beds, with the help of Beatrix they were fast asleep. All the members were whispering among themselves when Amelia stood. Her presence commanded attention and respect, there was an immediate silence from the coven. Her leadership and authority were undeniable. Her words had to be chosen wisely, their power would shape the course of the coven.
Amelia addressed the coven, her voice steady and filled with purpose, “We stand at a great, crucial junction, facing a threat like none other.” She cleared her throat and looked at Beatrix. “My sister and I have acquired the most critical ingredient for our festivals. We have the harvest moon and Mabon approaching quickly. We took ten year old twins.” She smiled broadly at her sister. “We also had a lot of fun. I made sure the people that live below us knew it was us.” There was a soft murmur among the coven members. Amelia gestured her hands up and down. “No, no, no…Just wait. We need them to realize that we are not the true enemy. Although we did devastate an entire family to get our ingredients they need to not fear us as much as they do. We will still reign supreme over them but in their small minds we need to be seen as compassionate. They must see us as allies in the near future. I will not sugarcoat it, my family, there is evil coming. Sheer and total evil; none like we have ever witnessed.” She sighed deeply. “I am saddened that any of you would doubt my leadership. My sister and I will always put the safety of the coven first. Always.” She walked around the room, all eyes were on her. She touched hands, lovingly showing her adoration for the witches and warlocks. “She and I did what we had to do. What we are about to do no other coven has ever done. We are about to embark on a journey and it is a point of no return. I will not seek vengeance or retribution on any of you that want to leave now. We have all seen the prophecies and we know that the sky has lined up perfectly. The time to act is now.” Not one member of the coven stood and left, they all remained loyal and focused on Amelia. “I’m thrilled to see that none of you left. I could feel some doubt earlier but that has diminished. We have a lot of work to do.” She sat back down with her sister to her right and began.
Amelia’s approach was systematic. She knew that she had to seek the guidance from the witches and warlocks skilled in herbalism, falconry and astrology. Only those versed in the arcane arts of nature and mysticism could provide the correct components needed. The ancient seer in the sect, Markus was also consulted. He told Amelia and Beatrix that he could not see the outcome of the ceremonies. He was being blocked. A foreign feeling to him. He tried different spells and incantations to try and evoke the answers but was still denied. The presence of an alternate force at work, one that the great seer couldn’t even penetrate with his visions, confused him. The blocking of the ceremony’s outcome heightened the tension. Despite the obstacles the seer had seen signs in his dreams that they would be successful.
Each specialist within the coven held a piece of the puzzle needed for the festival in two weeks. Even more members were going to be needed in a little over a month for the Samhain and Blood moon festival. Both the ceremonies and all of the spells had to go smoothly and with no mistakes. They needed to be executed with precision and unity in every magical act, sacrifice and incantation. They required complete unity and devotion to work as one collective consciousness.
The coming of a great adversary on the horizon loomed like a storm cloud. The family’s preparations for the festivals were in full swing. The mysterious force blocking the great seer needed to be uncovered. They did not need another adversary. The fate of their territory and of mankind hung in the balance. This was more than a battle of good versus evil, this was a battle for everything
.
CHAPTER 4
BEATRIX AND THE TWINS
Beatrix’s curiosity about the twins’ psychic connection and the absence of such a connection between her and Amelia intrigued her. She wondered if the entire family that they just slaughtered held some magical ability. This added another significant layer of complexity to the already tense situation. Beatrix recognized the importance of understanding how deep the twin’s connection was and whether it posed any threat or held any benefit for the upcoming festivals. The safety and success of the festivals was of the utmost importance. This newfound mystery needed to be investigated further so that the celebrations could proceed without disruption.
Beatrix’s experiments began by placing them in a barren room, she subjected them to an anxiety-filled existence.. She flooded the room with a temperature of 100 degrees and saturated the room with stress pheromones. The twins felt the shift and responded exactly how Beatrix hoped with fear and anxiety. They clung, hysterically, to each other as she employed a new tactic, separation. Their hands grasped for each other and tried to stop her from separating them. Beatrix grinned when they both flinched as she touched them on the shoulders. She wanted to see if the heavy dose of intense emotions would trigger the psychic connection. Beatrix watched them intently but she could only sense a tremor of contact between them. She knew that it was a different emotion that would be the main source of power for them. Stress was a part of it but not all. She needed answers, she placed the twins in rooms that were adjacent to each other but the doors were locked. Their confinement only added to the already tense situation.
Jakub, was the first twin to be subjected to various painful tests to see if there were any discernible effects on the other twin. She probed his psychic connection with his brother, Kamil, attempting to understand the emotional connection that they shared. She subjected Jakub to painful examinations to see if there were any reactions to Kamil. She exposed Jakub to extreme mental images of their mother’s death to see if Kamil would share the experience. Beatrix did not use her immense power to monitor Kamil, she was afraid there would be contamination of the results from her power. She had another witch monitoring Kamil as she continued her onslaught of Jakub. She wanted emotional turmoil to be felt by both. Beatrix manipulated Jakub’s sensory experiences causing him physical pain. These painful tests were being conducted with the strictest sense of responsibility and care. Beatrix sought to grasp their full power and to see if it could be used to the benefit of the coven for the upcoming festivals.
Beatrix discovered that Kamil showed a great connection of sympathy and empathy mirroring Jakub’s distress. He shared his emotions and sensations. During her tests, Beatrix could feel Kamil trying to shield his brother from her onslaught. Kamil’s attempts to protect his brother from harm demonstrated not only their strong emotional bond but also Kamil’s sense of responsibility as the older twin. She felt that Kamil’s abilities were more pronounced than Jakub’s.
Beatrix recognizing Kamil’s protective role and the strength differential between the twins, she needed to intensify her experiments with him. Jakub was left in the fetal position on his bed, Beatrix looked over her shoulder at him as she walked out.
She now needed to focus on Kamil. She needed to unlock the secrets of their psychic connection. She knew that she would be walking a fine line between uncovering the extent of their abilities and ensuring their safety. The experiments became increasingly intense pushing the boundaries of what the twins could endure. These trials not only tested the extent of their abilities but also their familial bond.
She had Kamil physically restrained on the bed, not wanting her power to contaminate the results, she had to resort to arcane forms of restraint. The blood oozing from the restraints served as a chilling reminder of the physical toll the experiments were taking on the twins. Beatrix looked at the unsettling image on the bed and had to remain vigilant. Any emotion from her and the experiment could be ruined. She had to keep her resolve and continue. She sighed deeply and began her assault on Kamil.
She began by subtly releasing her immense power by dropping the temperature in the room. The sudden chill in the air sent a shiver through Kamil. Beatrix stepped out of the room to observe Jakub. There were no signs of discomfort from Jakub causing her intrigue to deepen. The absence of an immediate reaction puzzled her, leading her to question the nature of the twins’ connection. This unexpected development added another layer to her curiosity. She went back to the room with Kamil.
“My brother is just fine, isn’t he?” Kamil chuckled at Beatrix. It was at that moment that Beatrix felt the strong emotional connection the twins shared.
“Yes, he appears to be unharmed,” she replied cautiously. “Let’s see if we can change that.” She walked over to the side of the bed and pinched Kamil on the arm as hard as she could. He screamed out in pain. Beatrix waited to hear the inevitable pain-filled cries from Jakub but none was heard.
“I will never allow my brother to feel what you are doing to me. I am protecting him.”
“How?”
“Why would I tell you? You slaughtered my family!” Kamil began to sob. Beatrix could hear Jakub crying in the next room.
“So that is the connection? It’s sadness that connects you. Interesting.” She paused, “I can work with that.”
Beatrix’s discovery that sadness was what connected the twins opened up a new avenue for her to explore. She recognized the need to go deeper into this aspect of their connection. The twins’ natural power, intertwined with sadness made for a very potent and potentially powerful force. The implications could be significant.
She flashed images of their mother’s shredded remains, along with the blood soaked room filled Kamil with profound sadness. Beatrix continued. She replayed the middle son’s neck snapping at an awkward angle over and over again. Kamil was screaming with the turmoil of sadness, almost losing control of his sanity. In the other room Jakub was wailing along with his brother. They were sharing such raw, intense, painful emotions. Beatrix had found the connection boundaries of their shared sadness. Their connection became even more apparent as the room began to vibrate. The fireplace started to shake as Kamil lost total control over grief. Flames whooshed out and towards Beatrix, she held up her hand. The flames went around her and she remained unharmed. She studied Kamil on the bed, deep lines formed on her forehead as she tried to comprehend the power over flames. The room became a crucible of magic and deep shared sorrow, it further unraveled the mystery of the twins and their unique abilities.
The experiments were emotionally taxing and pushed the boundaries of their psychic connection. She forced their emotions to the brink, shedding some light on the profound depths of their shared sadness.
Beatrix’s conclusion was a significant breakthrough. She realized that their powerful, shared emotion, sadness, granted them a small measure of control over fire. Their emotions had to be pushed farther and farther to get that result. She was confident that their shared emotion, while powerful, could be controlled and managed by the coven. This knowledge brought a sense of relief and assurance that the festivals would go as planned. The success and safety of the ceremony was all that mattered. The sisters could use their immense power during the festivals to keep Kamil’s extreme reaction to painful, heartbreaking images in check.
CHAPTER 5
AUTUMNAL EQUINOX AND THE HARVEST MOON
(MABON FESTIVAL)
Markus, the lead psychic that communed with nature was a venerable figure. The wisdom of his years was etched upon his face. His milky eyes, cloudy with age, allowed him a greater depth of insight. As a trusted advisor to the sisters since their mother’s death, he taught and guided them. His presence was invaluable in navigating the challenges posed by the “Great Calling”. He knew long before the sisters arrived that they would seek his counsel regarding the upcoming Mabon ceremony and sacrifices. His foresight was sacred to the coven.
Despite his exceptional talents, Markus found his visions obstructed by a dense fog. He could not get a glimpse of the outcome of the Mabon festival. The frustrating interference heightened the family’s concern. They knew that a great evil loomed overhead and that they would face a formidable adversary, one that would require resilience and the help of an ally to overcome.
The Mabon ceremony and its achievements would determine the success of the upcoming Samhain/Blood moon festival. The family knew that everything had to proceed with meticulous precision. Despite being blocked, they were determined to rely on their own magical abilities, unity and an unwavering resolve to ensure the success. The suspense and anticipation continued to mount as the day of the Mabon festival drew near.
Amelia spoke to Markus, “I think my sister and I may be able to help you see through the mist. I think that if we harness all three of our powers it will work. Beatrix’s immense abilities and telekinetic prowess will help to support your visions. I may be able to blow the fog out of your sight for you to momentarily see the outcome of these festivals.” She felt a foreign feeling of doubt creep over her, she shook it off. “Are we trying in vain to conquer this evil that is coming our way?” She sighed loudly. “Is what we are about to do worth the price?” She sat down beside Markus, Beatrix was on the other side. “Can we try again, Markus? Are you up to the challenge?”
Markus grabbed their hands and closed his eyes. “I hope this works. Let’s see if my dreams were a premonition.” He sighed loudly and tilted his head back, the sisters in unison did the same.
They began to softly hum in octave harmony as they swayed back and forth. The trio started to bend the pitch of the sound that made them go off key momentarily. Each time the notes were manipulated they became faster and faster. Beatrix’s eyes shot open and rolled over black. She began to contort her free arm and raise it above her head. She was sweating profusely but continued to hum. Amelia slowly lowered her head and opened her eyes, she had clouded eyes like Markus’. She was shivering and her lips were blue. Bright white, frosty smoke began to snake out of her mouth. The sound of the humming was carried on the smoke. It danced and pulsed with the vibrating sound. Markus opened his eyes and they were a radiant turquoise blue. He began to chant softly as his eyes darted back and forth. He threw his head forward and backward violently, almost breaking the connection with the sisters. Their combined strength created a powerful surge allowing Markus to see the outcome. He began to convulse as drool ran down his chin. The humming had reached fever pitch as the decibels were ringing their ears. With a bright flash of light and a surge of magical energy they all collapsed.
Markus whispered, “I think we have finally cracked the enigma! We may proceed with confidence.” His eyes slowly rolled back over to clouded, “I have never felt such a sense of love and unity in my many years. I have a renewed clarity on just how powerful we can all be. We shall proceed in three days. The “Great Calling” will work, I have confidence that we shall bring forth the weapon needed to confront the evil that approaches.”
With Markus’ vision giving blessings to the festival, the coven switched into high gear. They worked tirelessly, weaving spells, crafting enchantments and gathering all the intricate details for the festival. The urgency of the situation hung in the air yet they were determined to ensure that the event went smoothly and with no interruptions.
The day had finally arrived. The coven was bustling about the altar decorating it with the bounty of the season. There were gourds or every shape and color, acorns, apples, and pinecones all nestled in a deep bed of leaves. The colors of the season as a blessing for the Mabon festival were abundant. The deep reds, oranges, browns, yellows all made the welcoming for their sacrifice to the earth and Mother Nature. Feathers of all shapes and sizes adorned throughout the display. The falconer warlock was sure to place the feathers exactly and with confidence onto the altar. The small wooden crate of doves placed on the right side of the altar had tiny downy feathers floating around it. The doves cooed lovingly. The day and night will be the same length carrying with it a sense of peacefulness inside the coven. The smell of the soup for the evening’s main course was wafting through the forest. Each household within the coven brought something for the feast. Breads, deserts, meats and a litany of seasonal vegetables would make their way to the long oak table to the left of the altar.
As evening began to darken the horizon, the families all gathered and sat at the great table. A ring of candles enhanced the magical circle. All standing proud in their wrought iron holders, their pristine white bodies adorned with delicate, intricate carvings. Their flames atop swayed gently in the evening breeze, their golden tongues licking at the air. The circle was bathed in a soft honeyed light as if a portal to another realm had been opened in the heart of the circle.
Amelia and Beatrix entered the sacred circle, their hands interlocked with one another. The entire coven stood as they walked passed. The sisters smiled at their beloved brethren as they made their way to the head of the table. Beatrix, at Amelia’s right and Markus on her left, they sat in unison with the rest of the coven, except Amelia. She continued to stand in the soft glow of the amber light from the illuminated circle.Their silhouettes bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the candles, the coven all stared at their venerable leader waiting to hear her blessings to Mabon.
The forest fell into a profound stillness, a solidarity was felt as an atmosphere of purpose filled the coven. They were ready to embark on the destiny that had been written by the ancients. Amelia lifted her head to speak, she cleared her throat and began. “Great spirit of the harvest, we gather on this sacred evening. Autumn’s golden hues surround us in every way, with our hearts full of unity, we come here together. To honor the bounty of the land and ask Mother Nature to hold us near; for the gifts and blessings of nature, we raise our voices high. On this equinox evening, we will find perfect harmony with you, Great Mabon. We embrace the changing seasons and offer you the bounty that the earth has given us. With love in our hearts and a unity in prayer we celebrate this time, among the circle we share.” She paused, smiling lovingly at the members all sitting and listening intently. She continued, “Guide us through the coming days with wisdom and grace. Fill our lives with blessings, forevermore. So mote it be, with gratitude and peace we present this grand sacrifice to you, great Mabon.” She walked over to the altar, Amelia opened the crate of doves.They excitedly and awkwardly flew out and into the blackened forest. She motioned for the younger twin, Jakub, to be brought in.
Jakub willingly entered the sacred ring. The candle’s dance placed macabre shadows all over his face. Beatrix stood and went to the center of the circle. She held out her hand and motioned towards Jakub to come closer to her. In a dreamlike state he went to her. Beatrix’s immense telekinetic powers allowed her to hold onto Jakub’s mind. She ensured that he was oblivious to what was about to happen. She also promised that he would feel no pain, no fear, no anxiety.. Amelia walked over and placed a loving hand on the top of Jakub’s head.“Please accept this sacrifice, oh great Mabon.” She looked over at Markus, he knew instinctively to be the anchor when the coven all joined hands. He was the last of the three powerful leaders left at the table. His great psychic ability was needed at the juncture between sacrifice and acceptance from Mabon. He could feel the presence of Mother Nature, he looked around the darkened forest trying to get a glimpse of her in the shadows. She remained elusive to his vision but to his third eye could see her clearly.
Amelia continued, “Brothers and sister, I need you all to stand and come forth, creating our own sacred circle. Please harness all of your abilities to ensure that Mabon will accept our offering.” She stood at Beatrix’s right, she looked her sister in the eye as a large tear ran down Beatrix’s face. Amelia could feel her sister’s grief on having to perform such a ritual. Amelia looked over at the large, oak table, all of the members stood and raised their hoods. In silence they formed a large circle with Markus at the head. They joined hands and began to chant softly as Amelia started the incantation. “In shadows deep and the moonlit glow, where secrets lie and the wind does blow. With ancient wisdom and power untold, I conjure forces for mysteries to unfold. By earth, wind, fire and air, I call upon magic shared. With ancient rites and sacred rhyme, we weave this spell through space and time. Oh great Mabon, your bounty so dear, we come to you without any fear. Celestial forces, hear my plea, accept this bounty we offer to thee. With offerings of earth, wind, water and flame, bless this moment with your sacred name. As we give, both shall we receive, by the power of Mabon we believe.” She began to sway back and forth as a soft mist began to form around herself, Beatrix and Jakub. With one sweep on the sacred blade, Beatrix ended Jakub’s life. His blood poured forth like a crimson river and life ran out of him. Kamil, feeling his brother’s demise, shrieked. It echoed through the forest and into the valley. The Invoking tree began to hum.
As the mist slowly dissipated, Beatrix closed her eyes and a gaping hole formed in the soil. The blood soaked earth was muddy and almost clay-like. Another large tear ran down her face as she placed Jakub’s body into the rust colored puddle at the base. Her shoulders bobbed up and down as a wave of grief engulfed her. Amelia placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder and took some of her grief away. Amelia had tears streaming down her face, the sister’s eyes were locked on each other. The coven was still chanting, their harmony rising and falling and carried on the wind. Markus’ eyes shot open and they were a piercing, cold blue. The cloudiness of his eyes had an otherworldly shine to them. He began to hum in an octave higher than the coven.
Beatrix began her charm of acceptance. “Mother Earth and great Mabon see, this great offering we give to thee. Celestial realms and earthly might, we place this offering in the night. To the depths of soil we now bestow, accept this gift with honor we show. By root and stem, earth and vine, grant this offering be truly thine. To the earth we give, to the earth we pray, accept this offering and guide our way. By the power of magic I so mote it be, and so shall be done, blessed be.” The Invoking tree was now matching harmonies with the coven. It glowed and pulsed in the darkened forest. Small iridescent flakes began to vibrate around it. Bright waves of light shot out of the tree as the flakes floated down into the hole with Jakub’s body. Beatrix and Amelia began to sway in unison while the earth engulfed his remains, the small shining flakes landed softly on the ground and vanished. Beatrix continued, “From earth’s soft embrace, to the moon above, we thank this offering, with unity and love. Ancient spirit hear our voice, in our sacred place, we rejoice. With reverence so deep, our souls do sing, a freedom was given, allowing our voices to ring. For the gift that was given, we all can see, thank you, thank you, so mote it be.”
As a subtle tremor passed through the earth beneath the coven, Markus’ chanting turned from a harmonious song to anguished cries as he fell to his knees.The ground seemed to shift, acknowledging the offering, above the sky rumbled with distant thunder. Flashes of lightning streaked across the darkened heavens, the Invoking Tree, once bathed in a radiant light, was plunged into darkness. In that moment, it was as if the very elements had taken notice of their ritual and offering. The earth, the sky and the tree formed a mysterious connection, their energies aligning and intertwining to guarantee that Mabon would be pleased. It represented the moment that unity was created between the coven and the world beyond.
Markus lay collapsed in a heap. The sisters ran to their beloved mentor, their steps quick and urgent. He lay on the ground, exhausted from channeling his great psychic power. The entire coven gathered around him, concern etched on their faces. At that moment, the sisters knew that their sacrifice had been accepted by Mabon. They could feel the static in the air, the strong smell of ozone floated on the wind, and the sister’s could feel Mabons’s warmth. They knew that the great deity was pleased. The energy released from the ritual took its toll on Markus, he lay on the ground sweating and panting. He was unconscious for what felt like an eternity to the sisters. They watched over him with increasing concern and growing apprehension. The weight of the ritual and the acceptance by Mabon weighed heavily on their hearts. Markus began to stir, his eyelids fluttering open slowly as he gradually returned to the waking world. A large sigh of relief came from both of the sisters.
Markus managed to slowly get his strength back with the assistance of the sisters. The coven stood by as a wave of concern swept through them. He made his way back to the great table as the rest of the families joined him. They all sat in unison. Markus still bore the signs of the ritual’s toll but was determined to finish the blessing. Amelia and Beatrix took their rightful places at the table. Beatrix sat but Amelia stood, her hands raised above her head. “May the blessings of earth and the Mother that cares for her be our constant guide. We live in harmony with you, great Mabon. You have graced us with accepting our sacrifice. One that my sister and I did not take lightly. May your blessings manifest in our ultimate goal. With the power of the elements and the energy given, guide us and show us the way. As we close this ceremony, united as a family, we will stay under the watchful eyes of Mother nature and Mabon.. Blessed be.“ She lowered her arms and in unison the coven said, “Blessed be.”
The feast had begun but Amelia was more concerned with healing Markus. She channeled her healing powers through her glowing hands to tend to him. Concern was written all over her face as she held his chin in her hand. The energy flowed, mending and revitalizing him.
CHAPTER 6
THE GREAT EVIL
Only days after the Mabon festival was a success, Markus came to Amelia. He was with another warlock named Evgeny. He possessed the ability to manipulate time, like Morgan, Amelia’s father. As the pair approached Amelia to share their concerns about Markus’ vision, their demeanor reflected the urgency of the situation. Their expressions were serious and intense, their anxiety was palpable from Markus’ premonition. Evgeny’s presence, along with his time-manipulating abilities added an air of mystique to the encounter, underscoring the significance of the impending threat. They needed to convey their message with a mix of caution and reserve. They emphasized the need for immediate action to combat the looming threat.
Markus sat down beside Amelia and grabbed her hands, “I have had a premonition and I have chanted upon it. I also went to our tree and consulted the crystals. I needed Evgeny’s help to see it more clearly. I have seen what is coming our direction and we need to prepare sooner than Samhain. I see death,” he paused, “no, I see brutal murder. I see a level of sadism that I have never encountered before. What truly makes this terrifying is they are human. They are being influenced by a very powerful evil. This is our main concern. We need to shield ourselves from the onslaught of an army of men coming this way. I brought Evgeny with me to show you the snippet of the possible future we both saw.” He lowered his head, gray hair hanging in sweaty strands and sighed loudly. He motioned for Evgeny to come to them.
Markus, Evgeny and Amelia all joined hands as Evgeny began to chant and sway. He was locking in on the possible future. His heart raced and his fingers trembled with anticipation, he opened his eyes. They had turned a bright yellow as he turned his head upward towards the heavens. In their collective mind they could see the fabric of time being rippled, revealing to them a scene in the not-so-distant future. He looked past the village, peaceful and vibrant, passed the coven and its woods and into the abyss of time. Then the vision shifted and he saw forces descending upon them, a feeling of dread washed over the trio. They could see the coven gathering, their powers combining to create a rift in time itself. They knew that they had to hide the coven and their beloved tree from the approaching threat. At that moment, Amelia and Markus could not see what Evgeny was seeing. Evgeny began to shake as the flag of their adversaries came into view. His chanting speed had increased, his brow furrowed and confusion ran across his face. From another dimension Evgeny spoke, “I see a flag of vivid red, the symbol in the middle is one associated with spirituality and well-being. The image is set at an odd angle. I cannot imagine this symbol being used for evil.” He lowered his head and scanned around the room, his eyes still glowing with an otherworldly light. He continued. “The symbol is black and laid in a white circle. It’s an unsettling image, the intricate design has arms forming a chain, each link interconnected. The unity symbol is a representation of brotherhood but this has been skewed and is being used as a symbol for tyranny.” He collapsed onto the floor of Amelia’s home. Amelia gently lifted his head, her hands beginning to glow and he stopped her. “Wait, I want to also see who or what is influencing them.” Evgeny closed his eyes and went stiff. He began to speak an octave higher. “I feel a great mystic power with them as well as an evil. A…a…” he paused and squeezed his eyes tighter. “… being called a Chort.” He immediately went limp and unconscious. Amelia began to heal him, his eyes fluttered open, “thank you, sister. Thank you!”
Beatrix was summoned and they gathered around Amelia’s table in her dining room. Amelia made tea and they all recovered. Beatrix began to speak, “Evgeny, you said that the enemy is being influenced by a being called a ‘Chort’. I have read about them in one of the ancient scrolls.” She touched Evgeny’s hand and they smiled at each other. She stood and slowly walked around the table, “I know they are a malevolent, horned demon that lives in the shadowy world between the living and the dead. They thrive on chaos and destruction. The Chort, with its cloven hooves, stomps on the souls of the ones that have strayed into the world of wickedness. It is a harbinger of ill fortune. It is a cunning entity that preys on human weakness, offering tantalizing deals that come at a great cost; your eternal soul.” She paused and sighed deeply, a wave of concern washed over her face. “The Chort’s influence can poison the minds of men, it bends and perverts them. We must tread carefully, this entity is very powerful and very, very, smart. I do think, though, with our ancient wisdom and combined strength we can shield the forest from this being and the mystic that it owns. Once Samhain is upon us and the Great Calling happens, I think we will be able to remove the Chort and send it back to its shadowy, lonely realm. We just need to be careful and weave a spell to make our forest impenetrable. We can make the trees all look the same, change the forest so it will take them some time to reach the village. If we can help the townsfolk we will but right now they are inconsequential. I don’t mean to sound harsh but this great evil that has been foretold has come and we need to protect ourselves and our forest. Our laws demand that we ensure the safeguard of our bloodlines.” She sat back down and sipped at her tea.
The following day, the coven was gathered in front of Amelia’s home at the heart of the forest. Being the leader, her house was the closest to the tree. They needed to harness their combined abilities and shield their coven from the upcoming threat. Amelia stepped into the circle and she spoke, “My family, my friends and our sacred forest, we gather here today because we have seen what the great evil looks like and what they are harboring. The true evil that we must combat is a being called a ‘Chort’. A demon from another plane of existence. They also have with them a powerful mystic. I do not sense any true, naturally granted power from this man but I do feel that he is powerful with foresight. I also know that he has sold his soul to the Chort to further his own greed. We need to act quickly and decisively to ensure that the great evil will pass our forest and coven. There is no time to wait, we must act now. Please all of you join hands, we will harness our power to enchant the forest to make them get lost for a week or two. That will give us enough time to prepare for Samhain.”
Amelia raised her hands over her head, her fingers extended like tendrils, mist began to flow out of the tips. Thick, gray fog began to weave through the trees, low to the ground. It was as if the mist had a life of its own. Beatrix stepped forward, her arms down to her side with her hands flat. Blue flame began to pulse out of her palms and into the earth. The ground began to rumble and moan, hearing her call, it responded to her command. The soil began to heave as the coven and forest began to drop down creating a pattern of protective mounds of earth. These hills were not in a uniformed pattern. Lands closest to the barrier were constantly shifting, creating a topography that would be impossible to map. Markus stepped forward, using his great psychic ability he delved into the minds of the other witches and warlocks. All the members of the coven threw their heads back in unison with Markus. A soft humming sound began to drift along with the mist. Together the coven created a web of interconnected thoughts, intentions and emotions. Markus helped them to focus their power and create a potent energy that made the Invoking Tree begin to glow. Its shimmering branches pushed out shining flakes that softly wove through the members of the coven. It pulsed as a gust of wind blew through the coven, shooting the flakes into the forest.
Amelia summoned stronger, cooler winds and more moisture causing the mist that was in the forest to rise towards the heavens. It swirled as one unit, weaving and bobbing between the branches of the trees. The small flakes danced in the breeze. She opened her eyes and looked at her sister, they nodded at one another. Beatrix commanded the earth to tremble in the ground under the roots of the trees causing the branches and root systems to intertwine. Together they formed an impenetrable barrier. Blue flames flickered within the branches yet never ignited. The Invoking Tree’s glowing flecks along with Beatrix’s flames churned together along the perimeter, intermingling with each other before slowly dissipating, forming a fierce and protective barrier.
Markus’ psychic prowess served as the glue, binding the enchantment into a seamless union. The coven’s collective power surged, a wave of intention was sent across their realm. The animals all paused and looked to the sky, a raven’s call was heard in the distance. The coven’s energy was creating a cloak of concealment that would cause confusion to all who came near the boundary. Their powers melted into one to shroud their domain from the approaching evil. The forest would become alive as one unit to continually shift and change making it almost impossible to stay on course.
The forest responded to their call. The Invoking Tree went dark and pulled its branches into its middle. Its long, gnarled branches hugged around its trunk. The Invoking Tree knew that it had to remain quiet and dark. Their domain was within the mystical veil, well hidden and safe. The witches had harnessed the very elements and created a shield that kept them hidden. It was an impenetrable fortress of natural magic.
The approaching army faltered at the edge of the witch’s domain, the feeling of bewilderment swept over the entire regiment. The Chort and mystic felt a curious disturbance within the upcoming forest. The magic that shrouded the ancient woods played tricks on the Chort’s senses. It stepped to the edge of the enchantment and sniffed deeply. The mystic, a master of the arcane arts, furrowed his brow, sensing an unfamiliar energy at play. They looked at each other, uncertain of what they were encountering.
Intrigued and cautious they pressed forward, their footsteps causing the underbrush to whisper back to the coven. Unbeknownst to them the witches watched from the shadows, cloaked in their sanctuary protecting the heart of the forest.
CHAPTER 7
ENCHANTED WOODS
Freidrich, the evil mystic, knew he needed a powerful ally if he wanted to fulfill his desires. He coveted power, to have influential friends and to become a warlord. He knew that his carnal desires for blood could only be satisfied with an alliance with a creature of Slavic legend, the Chort. He consulted his ancient books and incantations and waited for the full moon to rise in the night sky.
In a clearing, bathed in the silvery light of the full moon, Freidrich set up an ancient circle. Candles lined the perimeter, all of their waxen bodies covered in symbols and runes. He needed to bridge the gap between the realms of man and the one of spirit. The pages of his arcane album of spells rustled, though alive. The parchment seemed to turn on its own accord, stopping abruptly and finding the exact incantation needed. A small fire burned softly in the center of the ring, the smoke swirled and rose. He began his incantations as his voice echoed through the forest. His lines soared across the lake in his home territory, a melody of arcane words and sinister intentions called out to The Chort. He spoke of ancient pacts and desires that lay heavily upon his psyche, he wanted to align himself with the demon’s malevolent will. The forest and lake became eerily still as his voice reached a crescendo. Suddenly, the air became thick with an otherworldly presence, the ground quaked under him. His lungs began to burn from the suffocating sulfur smell as the earth trembled and buckled. It yielded to the pressure and a great fissure broke the surface. Bright red light carrying the anguished cries of the damned shone out of the crack. The Chort emerged from beneath, a towering figure of darkness and evil. It stepped out of the smoking crevice.
The forest floor had deep impressions in it from the cloven hooves, their outlines etched in the moonlight. The Chort stopped, lowered its head and bellowed at Freidrich, it stepped closer, sniffing the air as it approached. With each passing moment, the Chort’s form solidified, as it emerged from the shifting shadows. Its massive horns, ancient and worn, cast a sinister silhouette in the moonlight. They appeared as relics bearing the scars of eons, a testament to the wicked history they carried. They jutted from his head like ancient branches, each notch and curve telling a story of the ages.
Its fiery eyes met Freidrich’s and an unspoken pact was sealed. The Chort, bound by the mystic’s summoning, agreed to an unholy alliance. In exchange for its assistance, Freidrich offered the demon what it wanted most, his soul. Chaos and destruction oozed from every pore of the Chort. Freidrich and the demon stood in that haunted, moonlit clearing and a formidable yet uneasy friendship had been sealed. Together, they embarked on the journey to acquire an army, their true intentions only known to themselves with an air of impending doom lingering round them.
As the Chort and Freidrich solidified their alliance, their intentions expanded. Together, they concocted a sinister plan to amass the formidable force of nearby soldiers to their dark purpose. In the shadows, Freidrich’s psychic power burrowed deep into the psyches and dreams of the officers and soldiers, sowing seeds of discontent and malevolence. He slowly bent their wills to his and the Chort’s dark desires. In time, the temptation from the Chort and Freidrich’s subtle manipulations spread like a contagion through the ranks. Some officers, driven by a lust for power and unbridled ambition, became conduits for the Chort and sold their souls.The soldiers, being swayed by the mystic’s enchantments, pledged their allegiance to the unholy cause.
The forest where the witches’ coven lay became the focal point. It stood in the path of their ultimate goal, the small village that lay in the valley. Their loyalties perverted, they marched toward the mystical woods, unaware of the supernatural force in play at the border. As they neared the witches’ border, their darkness loomed and the fate of the village and its protectors hung in the balance.
As the army, along with their wretched alliance, ventured deeper into the witches’ enchanted woods, they encountered an ever-shifting landscape. The once familiar forest transformed into a labyrinth of chaos and confusion. The trees, once standing tall and proud, were twisted and contorted into strange and unusual forms. Their branches reached out like skeletal fingers, beckoning the intruders deeper and deeper into the forest. The path that they followed seemned to double back on itself, leaving them perplexed. The ground beneath their feet shifted, creating illusions of obstacles where none existed causing them to stumble and lose their way. Mist ebbed and flowed, causing eerie shadows that whispered lies to the soldiers. The calls of the creatures in the woods echoed through the tangled forest. The reverberation of the sound made it impossible to place where it had originated. The air seemed to breathe with enchantment as if the trees themselves conspired to bewilder and confound. The forest, in the defense of the witches’ sanctuary had become a realm of confusion. Every step taken was fraught with uncertainty and every turn led them further into the tangled web of illusion created by the witches. The sinister allies pushed forward only finding themselves trapped in a supernatural tapestry of bewilderment. The forest’s magic worked relentlessly to protect the coven and the village beyond. The witches’ reach with their enchantment waned as the forest neared the village. The witches were desperately trying to keep the army in the woods as long as possible. Every day was a step closer to Samhain and the “Great Calling”.
Under their mystical veil, the witches prepared for Samhain. They knew that the village was in the line of fire but could not risk exposing themselves to the army. They would watch from their protective cocoon with heightened senses as their enemy stumbled through the ever-shifting woods. They observed the growing confusion and frustration of the soldiers as the shifting landscape continued to confound them. They marched in circles, retraced their steps and the eerie twisted trees seemed to mock their every move. Amidst their observation, the witches kept a wary distance from the Chort and from Freidrich. Their presence demanded the utmost caution. As the nights wore on, the witches remained unwavering, their sentinels constantly giving Amelia a report on the threat. They were ready to harness all of the power of Samhain and would use their abilities to protect the village and confront the intruders. Their sacred forest remained unseen as they bided their time and awaited the summoning of the one to defeat these interlopers with the “Great Calling”.
After weeks of disorientation within the ever shifting forest, the army at last reached the forest’s edge. From this vantage point, they gazed upon the peaceful village that had remained hidden for so long.The witches, still concealed in their cloak could sense the presence drawing near to the village. They feared that the moment of reckoning was upon the innocence below. The moon was hanging low in the night sky as the witches steeled themselves for the battle to come. The quiet village, unaware of the evil approaching, slept quietly in the autumn night. They did not know of the supernatural guardians in the forest, ready to confront the intruders. The witches had only six more days until the festival of Samhain, then they would have all of the needed battle strength to eradicate the Chort and the mystic.
CHAPTER 8
THE VILLAGE
The army descended upon the village as the witches watched from their concealed vantage point. They witnessed the soldiers committing acts of unspeakable brutality. Under the Chort’s malevolent impulses, they unleashed their unabashed evil. The innocent villagers were taken by surprise. The soldiers ransacked homes, tearing through possessions of families who had lived in the village for generations. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood echoed through the witches realm. The villagers were forced out of their homes, still dressed in their nightclothes, confusion and terror all over their faces. They were forcibly separated from their loved ones and their horrid cries pierced the night air. The families were torn apart, children clung to their parents in horror. Their pleas fell on deaf ears.
Amelia was driven by a mixture of fear and compassion, she knew she had to act. She sent the coven back to the safety of their enchanted woods. Amelia needed to see more. She cautiously approached the village, concealed in the shadows she crept closer. Her heart ached as she witnessed the elderly villagers, frail and helpless, being loaded into the back of a truck. The soldiers were laughing as they were shoving the aged townspeople with the butt of their rifles. The soldiers, their senses heightened by the alliance with the Chort, felt a strange presence in the shadows, they looked around. They would catch fleeting glimpses of her as she watched. Suspicion hung heavy in the air, causing tension in the ranks. One soldier hesitated as his gaze was focused on Amelia. She manipulated the wind that rustled the leaves and concealed her presence. She retreated further into the shadows, her resolve was unwavering and was determined to protect the vulnerable villagers. Her compassion was mixed with a feeling of dismay knowing what they had done to the family of the twins. She stayed and watched further with tears rolling down her face. She needed to discover what the soldiers intended to do to the villagers. Amelia watched intently trying to unravel the depths of depravity.
The scene grew even darker and more sinister as the soldiers attached a hose to the truck’s exhaust. The other end they snaked into the back of the vehicle where the elderly villagers were held. Amelia, hidden in the shadows, could hardly believe the horror unfolding before her. Amelia’s heart raced as she realized the implications of this cruelty. She knew she had to act swiftly to prevent a tragedy. She summoned a gust of wind, pushing the toxic fumes away from the elderly villagers. However, the malevolent Chort sensed her presence. A cold shiver went up her spine as she realized she was no longer concealed from the sinister entity. With a heavy heart, Amelia knew she had to flee, leaving the truck and the vulnerable villagers behind. Her retreat into the depths of the forest was swift and silent, a desperate attempt to evade the Chort. She needed to regroup with the coven, although she had been sensed she was determined to return to the village and confront the malevolent forces threatening the people that called the small hamlet home.
Amelia’s tearful return to the coven weighed heavily on their hearts, and her words filled the night air with a sense of impending dread. Beatrix, her fiery spirit burning with determination stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. Her voice trembled with emotion, “I must see this for myself. We cannot allow such cruelty to go unchecked. When we caused the deaths of the family, we had a goal. For centuries we have lived above that village. We haven’t always been the best neighbors but now we have to act. This is our territory. They are interlopers and must be eradicated. The villagers need us to do something, they are ours to protect or to…” Her voice trailed off. Amidst nods of understanding and support from the coven, Beatrix set out to witness the situation firsthand. She was prepared to use her control over fire and earth to protect the innocence of the village. She ventured into the darkness, following in Amelia’s footsteps and remembering to remain hidden.
As Beatrix, concealed in the shadows like Amelia before her, watched the scene unfold, her heart sank at the grisly sight. She could feel the hatred oozing from the center of the village. In the town square she could sense the Chort. It could feel her, its vision came straight to Beatrix, the Chort grinned. Beatrix threw up a wall of fire and moved position. She had a different vantage point, the soldiers, in a zombielike state, stood at attention. Their eyes glowed a deep red. The soldiers turned towards the pasture, gripped by their cruelty, fired their guns into the field. The bullets rang out, bringing down the village cattle, one by one. Their MG-42s that were once slung lazily across their backs were now raised as the spent casings littered the ground. The sound of gunfire echoed through the night, mingled with the anguished cries of the dying animals. It was a brutal act, one that was foreign to the peace loving villagers. Beatrix could feel the ground beneath her begin to tremble as if it was sobbing for the senseless loss of life. She needed to get a firm grip on her emotions, she was almost seen by the Chort. She couldn’t risk being seen by the mystic or any of the soldiers. She could not see the mystic but sensed him. The Chort began to sniff in her direction, acting out of instinct she rumbled the earth beneath its feet. It stepped backward and cocked its head, confusion washed over its face, allowing Beatrix more time to watch the grisly scene unfold further. The soldiers laughed and jumped the fence, sticking their knives and bayonets into the stomachs of the dying livestock. The loss of the cattle was not just a cruel act of violence but it was a devastating blow to the village’s survival. Beatrix knew that the already struggling villagers would have to face a harsh reality when the bitter winter months arrived. She hoped that with the “Great Calling” and Samhain they would be able to defeat the evil that was poisoning and perverting the minds of these men. The malevolent forces that had wrought this destruction had to be stopped, not only to avenge the land and animals but to ensure the village’s very survival. Beatrix stealthily crept back to the coven and reported to Amelia.
“The situation is dire for the village. Those beasts annihilated their livestock. They will not survive the winter if we are not successful when Samhain and the blood moon arrives. We need to make certain that everything is in place to move forward.” She turned and looked at Markus. “I’m not sure if you can get closer to the psychic than I but you should give it a try. I could feel the Chort staring in my direction and I am certain that it senses something is not quite right with our woods. I didn’t see the mystic that is with them. I could sense him trying to tuck himself into a cocoon of psychic energy. He is strong but he is no match for you, Markus.” She placed her hand onto his. “We need you to feel just how strong.”
Markus nodded. “He will never know I’m there.” A large grin crept across his face as the thought of infiltrating this weak wizard’s mind filled him with joy. “I will find out his family line as well. We need to know what family he comes from in order to get a firm hold on his powers.” He kissed the sisters good night and stepped out into the crisp Autumn air of the Carpathian mountains. He sighed deeply. He wanted desperately to go to the Invoking Tree and consult with its wisdom but he could not risk it being seen.
Markus’ age-weathered bones and seasoned wisdom knew a different approach was necessary to get close to the mystic. He set forth on a path less traveled, one that would lead him to the village in a shroud of invisibility. With every step, he called his psychic gifts, honed and perfected after years of practice and meditation. He chose to try and connect to the minds of those who had fallen victim to the Chort and its influence. He was trying to find a weakness and he found many. He was looking for something to exploit so he could disrupt the connection the Chort had over these men. There was very little, if any, humanity left in them. Markus shuddered at the thought of men being in alliance with such evil. These men were not able to be helped, they had sold their soul to the Chort and the underworld.
He decided to apply his strength to getting close to Freidrich. Markus was infiltrating his psychic energies, creating a one way link. He penetrated the mystic’s thoughts, tip-toeing through his memories and mind. The connection got stronger with each passing moment. He was determined to understand his motives and find a weakness that could be exploited. Markus had to be careful, infiltrating the realm of the mystic was a dangerous endeavor, but Markus’ commitment to the coven was unwavering. The connection deepened as Markus wanted to see the familial power that rooted him in the mystic world.
Freidrich’ ancestry was steeped in ancient mysticism and knowledge. His family line, stretching back for generations, had served as guardians of a hidden and dark legacy. Their powers lay in an evil pact forged by his ancestors. Centuries ago, one of his forebears had entered into a bargain with supernatural entities, including the Chort. This unholy pact granted the mystic the power to influence minds and conjure malevolent forces at his command. As the last of his lineage, Freidrich was burdened with this legacy. He had inherited his family’s ability to manipulate the thoughts of others and influence them for the Chort. This complex family history and the unusual nature of Freidrich’s power added a layer of depth and intrigue.
Markus watched as Freidrich loomed over a group of children. His eyes were cold and devoid of compassion. A wicked grin ran across his face as he whispered dark commands into the ears of the children. He was manipulating their innocent minds. Their faces twisted with a combination of fear and repulsion, turned on their classmates. One by one they began to reveal secrets, spread lies and falsely accuse their friends of wrongdoings. Tears streamed down their faces as trust was eroded and friendships crumbled. The once unbreakable bonds of camaraderie were shattered with Freidrich’s influence. The children’s voices, once filled with laughter and shared secrets, now carried the weight of betrayal.
The youngsters subjected their classmates to a series of escalating physical abuse. Freidrich watched and laughed. They mercilessly shoved their classmates to the ground with violent attacks, once on the ground they kicked and punched. Playful disagreements had escalated into harmful confrontations, physical injuries such as bruises, scrapes and even broken bones were dealt out. The victims suffered not only from the physical pain but from the emotional trauma of being attacked by one of their classmates. Markus watched as two older boys, under the Chort’s influence, pulled two younger children from the line. They lined them up back to back, placed a gun to the forehead of one and pulled the trigger. Blood and bone splashed onto the concrete staining the mystic’s robes. Globs of brain flew through the air and landed in sounds that turned Markus’ stomach. The wailing of the mothers filled the night sky. A soldier, laughing, sauntered over to the women. He lifted his pistol and fired, their heads exploding from the close range projectile. Markus held back tears as he scanned the chaos. He watched in horror as four older children eyed a toddler. One of the group grabbed the toddler and swung him around by his hair. He was kicking and screaming, clawing at the assailants hands. He threw the toddler onto the ground, sliding to a stop at the feet of a group of three prepubescent boys. The mystic was watching in awe of the inhumanity being displayed by the kids. The four children each took a limb of the screaming little one and began to pull. Markus desperately wanted to help the child but could not risk being seen. Tears streamed down his face as he watched an older boy take out his pocket knife, and begin to slice at the flesh of the small child at his shoulders and hips. Rough gashes appeared as blood spurted out of the wounds, Markus felt as though he would be sick. The agonized cries of the child filled the air. It was a cry of unfiltered pain, a desperate plea for assistance. The older kids kept pulling until they heard the child’s joints pop. Laughter ensued as the toddler’s limbs came off with a gush of blood. Markus couldn’t believe that he just witnessed a child being drawn and quartered by other children.
Markus felt the seething rage well up within him, he couldn’t help let out a large gasp of emotion. His psychic connection with Freidrich was a double edged sword, allowing him access to the mystic’s mind but also revealing the depth of cruelty from within. He could feel Freidrich looking in his direction. His sudden gaze in Markus’ direction sent a chill down his spine but with profound effort, Markus summoned his full ability. He wrapped himself in an invisible shroud, rendering himself unseen by Freidrich’s sight. Hidden from the mystic, Markus knew he had to harness this rage and turn it into a force for action. He retreated into the depths of the forest, determined to share what he had witnessed with the coven. They needed to prepare for the inevitable confrontation.
CHAPTER 9
SAMHAIN AND THE BLOOD MOON
The witches, their concern weighed heavy with the pain they had witnessed in the village, understood the urgent need to prepare for Samhain. Their determination to protect their community and the world from the malevolent forces burned bright within them. As they gathered, in their sacred clearing, the weight of the responsibility bore down on them.Their collective hearts were broken and their grief was palpable. Samhain, a night of mystical power, had taken on a new meaning for the coven. It was not only a time to commune with the spirits but a moment to harness the strength and courage needed to defend their home. The bonds between the witches grew stronger, fueled by their shared sense of loss and commitment to each other. As they prepared for Samhain, their resolve to confront the darkness and protect the planet from further harm, burned within each individual witch. A shining beacon in the night illuminating their path to salvation.
The witches knew that the act of the sacrifice of the autumnal equinox had not been in vain. It had seasoned the earth beneath their feet, dousing it with a mystical energy that would now be the foundation for their Samhain/Blood Moon spells. As they gathered the sacred herbs, enchanted crystals and other ingredients they could feel the vibration of that earlier sacrifice. The land itself seemed to pulse with a heightened power. Their preparations were unique, drawing upon the very essence of spiritual energy that was left behind from the equinox. Each ritual builds upon the previous one strengthening the connection to the earth and their supernatural woods. The Invoking Tree, a silent sentinel, stood as an ancient guardian of the forest. Its protective arms encircled its sturdy trunk. Its powerful magic hidden deep within, its divinity shrouded from the evil that had invaded. The tree’s true role in the ceremony remained a mystery, a well-guarded secret that the witches would soon unlock.
The witches built a giant pyre on the very spot where Jakub lost his life and began to arrange a circle of offerings. Around the pyre, bay leaves and other herbs were placed with precision. They were invoking the protective energy off the forest floor and from Mother Nature. The herbs whispered ancient secrets as their fragrant aroma filled the air. The pyre, now a beacon of both remembrance and preparation, stood ready to be ignited. The flames symbolize the power of Samhain, a night where the veil between realms was at its thinnest. The cleansing ritual of fire will usher in the beginning of the dark half of the year. The families all added their offerings to the circle and the earth responded with a magical stirring. This reaffirmed their commitment to protect their territory and confront the darkness on this blessed night of Samhain.
Amelia and Beatrix approached Jakub with gentle yet determined hearts. Jakub’s descent into madness, since his brother’s sacrifice, was a bit of a concern. They found Jakub in a state of disarray, his eyes vacant and his mind gone. Amelia took his trembling hand, her hand instantly bringing comfort to him. Beatrix took the other hand and together they created a bridge of sanity for Jakub. They allowed his mind to drift to when he and his brother were younger, playing in the fields. In a soft soothing voice, Amelia whispered words of comfort and memory of the love he shared with his brother. As they guided him towards the ceremonial grounds, the witches’ connection to each other and the earth were the solid force that Jakub needed. With each step, the madness that gripped his soul began to recede, his eyes still reading as blank. In this moment of preparation, the witches readied Jakub to take part in the Samhain ceremony and find solace in the ancient magic that would envelop them all. Markus had removed all of his doubt, his sadness and his anxiety; Amelia replaced those emotions with light, memory and love. They left Kamil in a dreamlike state sitting alone at the long dining table, his mind gone but an eerie, vacant smile on his face.
As dusk began to darken the horizon, the coven knew it was time. Once again each family brought something for the feast, only this time they would eat before the ceremony. They gathered around the table, a feeling of urgency and confidence filled the air. Amelia, taking a deep breath and centering herself, began the ceremony with a heartfelt blessing. She invoked the ancient traditions that bound them together.
“May the harvest of our ancestors nourish our bodies and our spirits.” She looked around the table and a wave of pride washed over her. “May the bonds of love and remembrance strengthen us, and may the feast prepare our hearts for the magic that this sacred night brings. We are about to set forth on a path that has never been attempted, we are bound by the threads of our shared history and magic. May the spirits of our ancestors guide us, their wisdom illuminating the way. In the face of the unknown, may we be the light that banishes the shadows. With our incantations and rituals we shall summon the strength of the earth and the power within all of us. All the blessings of the land and the ancient forces that watch over us, we declare our intentions to protect the forest and the planet. We will confront the malevolent presence that threatens us all. We are strong. We are resilient. We are united and we will be successful on this most sacred of nights.” Amelia looked up to the heavens, “Our sacred guardian, the moon, will shine like a beacon and guide us. On this sacred eve, our once shiny, silver orb is now one cast in an aura of red. As we welcome the blood moon, we remember our ancestors and their sacrifices. Our hearts are raised and connected to the celestial realms, forever united as one.” The coven all nodded and some had tears in their eyes. They were ready to embark on the mystical journey that awaited them all. Amelia lowered her head, “Blessed be.” The rest of the coven bowed their heads and in unison whispered, “Blessed be.”
The roasted grouse, its skin glistening in the moonlight, was stuffed with bay leaves and earthy spices. The side dishes that celebrated the season accompanied the wild grouse. Roasted root vegetables, a tangy cranberry sauce and an assortment of apple dishes were passed around the table. The wild grouse had been thoughtfully provided by the falconer warlock and the avian witches. Their deep connection to that world and spirits of the sky made the offering a labor of love. A testament to the harmony that the witches sought to maintain with the creatures that inhabited the Carpathian mountains. While Markus was carving the game birds he was sure to say a prayer before serving each plate.
The altar was adorned again with the bounty of the season. Gourds, pumpkins, cranberries and acorns were all nestled soundly in a bed of fallen autumn leaves. The vibrant oranges, yellows and reds were a stark contrast to the stone altar that lay beneath.
Amelia stepped away from the dinner table, her movements deliberate and filled with purpose. She approached a wooden crate, nestled in the shadow of the pyre. She unlatched the crate and gently opened it, revealing its precious contents. Inside the crate, among the fragrant herbs and seasonal flowers were a collection of rare and mystical crystals, each radiating its own light. These crystals, enchanted by generations of witches, were an essential part of the ceremony. They were charged with the power of the earth that would be used to amplify the coven’s Samhain ritual. Amelia lifted a glowing crystal, its internal illumination shining on her face. Carefully, she began placing them around the pyre’s base with intention. Together they formed a protective barrier around the pyre. They symbolized the unity of the witches and their connection to the elements. As the last crystal was placed, the circle of power was complete and the witches could feel the energy.
Another crate was carefully opened, revealing a collection of knives. Each one adorned with intricate carvings and symbols. These blades had been passed down through the generations, their edges sharpened to cut through the veil of the physical and spiritual realms. With deep respect, Amelia placed each blade beside the glowing crystals. The combination of the crystals and the knives created a potent yet harmonious union, reflecting the balance between the spirit world and the living world. The witches were ready to begin the Samhain ceremony, their hearts and minds focused on the powerful magic that awaited them.
Amelia stepped to the altar at the head of the sacred circle, and began to softly chant. The words spoken were as old as the earth itself and they sang to the spirits of the woods. It was a call to the ancient forces of the blood moon and the magic that buzzed around them. She began to sway back and forth, her eyes raised to the heavens. Her voice clear and strong, she started the spell.
“O spirits of the earth, the air, fire and the water, you have watched over us for generations. We stand before you on this sacred night of Samhain. Grant us your wisdom, the insight to protect our home and the strength to confront the evil that has plagued the village below. May the energies of the blood moon and the four elements flow through us, aligning us with the spirits of this ancient land.” She lowered her gaze and put out both of her hands towards the large dining table. “Come and join me, my sisters and brothers. The time has come.” She smiled at them as they all stood, raised their hoods on their cloaks and formed their circle around the pyre.
Beatrix stood to her sister’s right and Markus to Amelia’s left, Kamil remained at the table, his eyes glazed over and a smile upon his face. It was Markus, the lead psychic that took the first step. His eyes closed and his mouth clenched tight, he visualized their collective thought, seeing it in his mind’s eye. A radiant thread of energy manifested bouncing and dancing above the pyre. Amelia raised her hood, her hands outstretched toward the crystals, she began to whisper an incantation, her eyes rolling over white. She summoned the enchantments within the stones, drawing on the energy of each family. One by one the crystal responded, their glows intensifying as they felt Amelia’s hold on them. As the crystals radiated, Beatrix stepped forward, her hands open wide, splaying her finger to the point of breaking, and began to hum. The crystal’s rose, hovering above the ground bouncing to the rhythm of Markus’ chanting. They began to swirl and twirl around the pyre, shimmering beams of light shone in every direction. The Invoking Tree began to glow deep within their woods. The pyre responded to the collective magic and began to vibrate. A sudden surge of light and the pyre ignited, its flames leaping into the night sky. The blood moon rose above, casting a crimson glow against the darkened heavens. It was time to begin the sacrifice.
Amelia, Markus and Beatrix having ignited the pyre lowered their hands in unison, their faces marked by awe and anticipation. They moved in sync to the altar, there Amelia would take the lead to summon the goddess. Amelia stepped forward, her eyes reflecting the fierce flames from the fire, and motioned for Beatrix and Markus to bring Kamil. She began the incantation.
“By the Blood Moon’s glow and the blanket of stars, I call to DeVaine, who shines from afar. Goddess of the moon, of magic and of the night, we call upon you to help us in this fight. From the lunar heights, across the veil so thin, to the earth we stand, together as kin. DeVaine, lunar goddess, hear our sacred call, we beseech you to bless us and watch over us all.” Amelia’s voice filled the night air, the coven stood silent as the flames of the pyre cast dancing shadows around them. The spell to raise DeVaine had begun, and the connection to the earthly realm and the celestial sphere grew stronger with each word. Amelia continued, “Lunar goddess, radiant and bright, bless us with your presence on this sacred night. In the dark and the light, we beseech you to appear, come to us, we hold you so dear.” Amelia paused and looked out at the coven, their arms raised at their sides and their heads tilted towards the heavens.
Amelia continued. “Goddess of the night, come to this holy land, this circle so sacred, this we command. From the cosmic dancing stars, to the earth below, come to us with a worldy show. In the dark, in the light, we call your name, Devaine, dear goddess, hear our claim.” Amelia paused and looked over at Markus and Beatrix. They gently placed their hands on Kamil’s shoulders, creating a link between the ethereal and the earthly plane. Markus’ power was essential in guiding the flow of energy and protecting Kamil’s spirit. He closed his eyes and began to focus his abilities protecting Kamil’s mind during the delicate process. He extended his influence over Kamil’s thoughts and emotions creating a psychic connection that allowed him to ensure Kamil’s sanity. Markus used a mental shield that would protect him from any overwhelming sensations. Beatrix handed Kamil the sacred blade, the same knife that took his brother’s life. The heads of the families all stepped forward towards the pyre and retrieved their familial knives.
Kamil stepped away from the altar and into the sacred ring, stepping closer and closer to the fire. The smell of singed hair wafted across their forest as Kamil got even closer, the sacred blade still in his hand. He reached the area where his brother’s young life was taken, flames licking at his ankles. He lifted the blade and sliced his own throat. Markus let out a large sigh as his hold on Kamil was severed. In unison the heads of the families sliced the palms of their hands as well as Amelia, Beatrix and Markus. Blood poured from Kamil’s neck as he collapsed into the fire, sparks and embers flew in every direction. The familial heads’ blood merged and began to pulse, surrounding the pyre and with a high wave it sank into the depths. The ground began to rumble and quake, The earth cracked, split open causing a blinding white light to shoot into the sky. The Blood Moon briefly turned a bright silver. Beatrix could feel the shallow hum of approaching footsteps, she knew that the goddess had arrived.
The ground began to buckle inward, the pyre fell down to the depths. Small, bright, orange ash floated down slowly as gray smoke billowed out. An echoing bellow came from the cavernous underground, it vibrated the soil around the witches. The coven remained in their sacred circle, their heads still turned to the heavens and their arms outstretched to their sides. The three leaders, standing hand in hand, were chanting softly.
Up through the crack and the smoke, a massive hand emerged, it scales shimmering in the Blood Moon’s glow. Talons, made from obsidian extended from her fingers, each one sharp as a razor. As her giant claw touched down, the earth yielded to her weight, sinking under the immense force she exerted. Another hand shot out of the darkness and slammed into the ground, creating a cascade of vibration. The witches were not swayed nor were they fearful. Horns, adorned with mysterious symbols and a shimmering energy that radiated from within, began to break through the blackness. The earth itself seemed to be yielding to the ancient power being brought forth. The ground cradled both of her hands making room for her to emerge fully. The Invoking Tree was shining brightly with its arthritic branches creaking and moaning as they spread out.
The Invoking Tree began to stretch its branches, weaving its glowing fingers through the forest. Small winged beings floated around the branches, never straying too far. The Invoking Tree was making its presence known to DeVaine, illuminating the sacred circle as its branches engulfed the surrounding trees. DeVaine began to speak her mantra in ancient Slavonic, the shining light from the Invoking tree began to keep rhythm with the chant.
Rising higher and higher, DeVaine began to become more and more into focus. DeVaine continued her ascent, emerging into full view in a scene like a macabre birth. Her colossal form rose out of the inky depth, the ground shifted and trembled in response. Her scaly skin shimmered with an iridescent sheen as the Blood Moon grew brighter. The lunar orb was pulsing faster and faster as DeVaine made her emergence. The coven, gathered in rapt attention, witnessed the lunar goddess’ awe-inspiring, otherworldly form. She continued to raise as her immense stature became apparent. Her eyes, twin orbs of celestial light surveyed the coven with a sense of ancient wisdom and power.
DeVaine’s form revealed a mouth adorned with massive fangs, each one a testament to her formidable power. Her jaw, lined with rows of intimidating teeth, continued to chant in ancient Slavonic. As her mouth opened, the light from the Invoking Tree danced upon her fangs, making spittle dangling from her jaw to shimmer as it fell into the abyss. She pulled herself out of the gaping wound in the ground, the earth yielding to her mass and presence.
Her enormous form now fully emerged from the dark crevice, she stood beneath the crimson light of the Blood Moon. Her massive, nude body, radiant in the lunar glow was a striking and awe-inspiring sight. She embodied both the ethereal and the primal, her scaly skin reflecting the moon’s eerie light. As the lunar goddess stood among the coven, her presence both majestic and unsettling, the witches bowed their heads.
The Invoking Tree sensed DeVaine and the need for modesty in the presence of such a formidable goddess. Its branches quivered and the tiny winged beings took to the air. Their delicate bodies shimmering in the Blood Moon’s light, graceful and purposeful they descended onto DeVaine’s colossal form. Their gossamer wings unfurled as they covered her nakedness. A living tapestry, they wove together like iridescent threads, concealing her immense body. The coven watched in silence as the tiny beings, emissaries of the Invoking Tree, fulfilled their role in preserving DeVaine’s modesty.
DeVaine spoke in a deep, gruff voice, “I am DeVaine, goddess of the moon, night and of magic. Why has thou summoned me?” She stepped closer to Amelia, bending at the waist, her long, raven hair rolling down her back causing her tunic to vibrate and shine. Her glowing eyes met Amelia’s, “You are the voice that I heard. Your incantations are strong, I feel your power, witch. You called and I have come.” Her presence went beyond the coven, she sensed the evil that lay below. With a sense of urgency, DeVaine turned and retreated into the profound blackness of the forest, back toward the base of the Invoking Tree. The ancient branches receded with her, leaving the coven alone in the darkness. The branches waited to receive her. As she returned to the sanctity of the tree, its branches enveloped her, offering an audience to discuss the malevolence that had infected the village below. The Invoking Tree, the ancient guardian of the forest, sheltered DeVaine and their interconnectedness brought balance to the ethereal and earthly realms.
CHAPTER 10
THE EVIL BELOW
In the over-run village down below, the Chort sat bolt upright as a chilling sensation coursed through its body. It hit him as DeVaine began her ascent onto the planet. A cold shiver ran up its spine as it tossed its head back and howled. It felt her presence like a shockwave, his senses awoken by her arrival. He recognized her as a force of immense and unsettling power, his body surged as he could feel the cosmic balance shifting. The scales of harmony had been shaken when he arrived onto the planet and now again with the arrival of DeVaine. The balance had been restored, the evil and righteous were finally upon the planet. A single icy finger ran up his back causing him to shudder, he stood and sniffed the air, taking deep huffing snorts. His nose quivering more and more with every breath. He looked around the room and hissed, his yellow eyes scanning his surroundings.
As the Chort felt the overwhelming power of her presence, he knew that he needed to call upon his followers. His primal instinct sought to rally those who had aligned with his malevolence. His dark bonds connected him to his loyal minions. He needed his backing, his lackeys, he needed to know more about the presence that had come. The Chort , with his malevolent awareness could sense an intricate balance of good and evil arrived with this being. It was the perfectly balanced equilibrium that piqued his interest. He could sense the duality and was hopeful but doubtful that with the right bribe he could shift that balance. He knew that if he was unsuccessful, he would need the sources of his dark followers as fuel for the impending war. He was willing to offer his followers as fodder in the cosmic struggle that was about to unfold.
He could sense something else, something that eluded him, something powerful. This force on the planet was foreign to him. He pursed his lips as he wondered why he never sensed it before. He closed his eyes allowing his mind to go blank, and began to chant softly. His eyes shot open, revealing an apricot glow that shone brightly from within. His visions soared through the witches’ forest, bobbing and weaving as it rocketed around the trees. It was aiming straight for the Invoking Tree, honing in on the dynamic presence. The Chort physically recoiled as his vision abruptly stopped, a large gasp of air escaped from him. He was confronted with the power and magic of the coven, a majestic unity that had generationally protected the forest for centuries. They stood, arm in arm around the glowing tree, chanting softly. The Chort’s third eye could not penetrate the immense magic. Amelia’s eyes met his, seering into him, with a screaming union of voices. His vision was shoved violently back. He was physically thrown across the room, crashing into a wood and glass curio. Priceless family memories scattered across the room, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the darkened streets. He cocked his head, “Interesting,” He thought as a sly grin crept across his face, “Witches.” He stepped out into the crisp autumn air, his jaundiced skin looking slick in the moonlight and took a deep breath.
In the darkness, as the Blood Moon rose, the Chort initiated a dark and unholy ritual to summon his followers. He began softly, weaving an eerie incantation. Ever louder, his voice booming with a cacophony of noise behind it. Soft screams and anguished cries filled the air as the underworld opened. The sinister call echoed through the shadowy realm, calling upon those who had pledged their allegiance to him. He spoke in ancient Slavic, summoning the depraved, the criminal and the insane.
“In the darkest of hours, where shadows do cast, I call to the madness, the spirits of the past. From the depths of despair, where misery lies. Rise, my friends, I insist you abide.” He opened his arms wide, leaning back calling to the Blood Moon. “Infernal spirits, head my dark decree. I call upon you and you shall answer to me.” The Blood Moon began to vibrate slightly, the witches all looked to the heavens in unison, their commitment unwavering. The hideous creature continued, “from the abyss of wickedness, emerge, and align. In the shadows of evil, allow our forces to intertwine.” He lowered his arms and waited, spittle dangling from his chin, he threw his head back and howled. Muffled moans and cries answered his call as they began to emerge from the soil, their collective agony resonated through the abandoned streets.
In response to his beckoning, his followers started to converge upon the village, drawn by the dark force that bound them to their leader. These creatures, loyal to the Chort and aligned with his desires took on grotesque and nightmarish forms. Some had twisted, horned features, while others had eyes that gleamed with pure madness. Others were shrouded in pure darkness, their shadowy figures seemed to float silently towards the village. There were monstrous canine-like creatures with gnarled, sharp fangs that gnashed and massive jaws that snapped at the air as they broke through the veil. They moved with an eerie unity, like a horde of darkness. They gathered in the town square, their presence casting an ominous, low fog over the village. They awaited instructions from their chief responding to their master’s beckoning.
As beings of the underworld began to assemble in the town square, the Chort sent a mental command to the soldiers who had sold their souls to him. “Find and execute any soldier who has not pledged his allegiance to me. This is your duty.” The Chort’s dark message reached the soldiers who had no humanity left. They were bound to obey his command without question since their sinister pact. These soldiers, with grim determination, set out on their ominous mission, hunting down their comrades for their master’s will.
The corrupted soldiers swiftly rounded up their comrades, with grim determination they herded the captive soldiers into a weathered barn. It had become a makeshift prison since the occupation. The barn, once a sanctuary for hay and livestock, now held the imprisoned soldiers, their faces etched with disbelief and fear. The inside of the barn was thick with tension and the darkness that descended upon the village seemed to seep through the cracks in the barn’s old boards. They could only wonder what grim fate awaited them at the hands of their one time friends. The Chort’s dark influence casting a long and menacing shadow over the village.
The depraved soldiers, driven by their allegiance to the Chort, poured gasoline around the perimeter of the ramshackle confinement. They danced and sang as they lowered their torches to the fuel. The imprisoned soldiers, now caught in the grip of a sinister act, faced a grim and fiery fate. Flames erupted, consuming the wooden structure with an eerie crimson light, casting dancing, macabre shadows on the faces of the soldiers trapped within. The imprisoned soldiers, their voices filled with terror and desperation, cried out for mercy as the fire raged around them. The barn became an inferno and the flames grew more intense with each passing moment. Their cries floating on the billowing smoke landed on the deaf ears of their wicked compatriots. The evil that remained outside stood with their arms around each other, swaying to the begging and the high pitched screams of their one time friends.
Outside the burning barn, the evil soldiers reveled in the chaos they had wrought. Their twisted devotion to the Chort and to the darkness that had consumed them found expression in an eerie dance of celebration. They hopped up and down, hooting and hollering as they threw discarded wood onto the flames. Their faces in contorted glee, they moved in a demented procession, their steps synchronized to sounds of the anguished cries. They sang songs, their voices resonating with a sinister chorus that filled the night air. Their celebration continued through the night casting a foreboding aura over the village. It was a night of malevolence and treachery, turning one man against another. The Chort joined in the celebration, watching with a prideful grin on his face as he absorbed the deranged adoration.
CHAPTER 11
THE INVOKING TREE AND DeVAINE
In the heart of the forest, the Invoking Tree and Devaine engaged in an ethereal conversation. Their minds and souls intermingled with one another. Their exchange held the secrets of eons past as they recalled the connection between the mystical world and the natural world. DeVaine, still shrouded in the silken threads of the winged beings, spoke with a voice of distant forces. “Invoking Tree,” she began, “we have witnessed the dance of the universe for countless eons. Your branches have been the keeper of secrets. Your roots have embraced the rhythm of time itself.” She paused. “Loyal sentinel, I sense the malevolence of the Chort. I can feel the impending clash of our forces. The darkness below is growing, it must be halted and conquered. I seek your guidance, ancient one, in this cosmic struggle. The witches are an amazing asset and I am bound to them, especially their leader, Amelia. Together we need to preserve the balance between light and dark. What insights can you give me, oh venerable keeper of the forest?”
The Invoking Tree, its branches rustling, whispered in the wind, “Lunar goddess, the roots that bind me to this ancient soil are older than you and I. My branches that reach for the heavens have seen the ebb and flow of the universe for millenia. In the face of darkness, remember the enduring power of the light. You must draw strength from the mystic coven that calls this sacred land home. Their familial ties to the earth go back for centuries. The universe itself supports the balance that you seek.”
DeVaine inquired, “Invoking Tree, my oldest friend, can you shed more light on the nature of the Chort and the evil that it wields? Please guide the light in this great battle that is on the horizon. What secrets do you hold about the darkness that has descended upon the land? I have encountered such beasts in the past, victoriously sending them back to the depths from which they emerged. What insight will you grant me?”
The Invoking Tree’s branches rustled even harder, it replied with a deep, resonant wisdom. “DeVaine, the Chort is a master of manipulation and corruption. He preys on the vulnerabilities of the human soul. He entices them to forsake the light for his malevolent power. He is a force of chaos and is seeking to unbalance the cosmic order. You need to speak to the head witch of the magical coven. I cannot and will not predict what will happen, the forces of darkness do not have rules like creatures of the light. They will be underhanded and dangerous.” A large gust of wind rolled through causing the winged beings to shudder. The tree continued, “To counter the Chort’s influence, you must recognize that unity and preservation of one’s inner balance are your greatest strength. His power grows as his followers relinquish their humanity in service to him. He has summoned a horde of followers from the bowels of the planet to serve in his ultimate goal. Seek to unravel the bonds that tie them to him. For unity, for compassion and the nurturing within your own soul. Along with those souls of the coven, can be the shield that guards you against his seductive lure. I think it is time that we brought in Amelia.”
As DeVaine and the Invoking tree continued their conversation, the ancient sentinel beckoned Amelia to join them. Gentle rustling of its branches and the tree called to her, recognizing her importance in the upcoming battle with the evil below. Amelia went to the tree, enigmatic and filled with determination, she stood beneath its lofty branches. She awaited the guidance and insights of the duo. The tree with its profound connection to the mystical and natural world would aid them in the cosmic struggle that lay ahead. The Invoking Tree’s branches embracing both DeVaine and Amelia, began to share its ancient wisdom. It emphasized the need for balance and unity along with compassion for the villagers and coven members during this confrontation. Unlike the Chort, this combination did not want fodder for a war, they wanted to seek peace and vanquish the darkness. The collective strength fortified by the interconnectedness of the natural and mystical realms was a formidable force.
Amelia, embraced in the Invoking Tree’s light, turned her attention to DeVaine, she spoke with confidence. Her voice was unwavering. “Great goddess of the moon and our beloved ancient sentinel, how can we, the coven, be of assistance in this great struggle? The horrible evil that has infected our realm is like nothing I have ever encountered. As you know, our ancient guardian, we have battled many foes together, standing hand in hand with the balance of nature. We are bound by our unity, our balance and the power we draw from one another. Alone we are a force to be reckoned with but together we are an unstoppable fury that will protect this sacred land. This has been the oath of this coven for generations, our ancestors for hundreds of years have kept this land pure. I will not allow it to fall into the hands of the beasts from below.”
DeVaine, her eyes reflecting the shimmering light of the Invoking Tree, “Amelia, the power of the coven is a great strength and an ally in this fight. Your unity and unwavering commitment to each other and the balance of nature along with the cosmos is like a beacon in the darkness. Together, we can confront the Chort’s seductive allure and rid the land of the soulless. The cosmic forces shall weave our worlds together and will guide us in preserving the balance. We shall grant your oath and keep it sacred.”
Amelia, with a deep understanding brought up an important perspective She considered the role of Mother Nature in the unfolding struggle. “DeVaine,” Amelia began, “we must also consider Mother Nature in this battle. She is eternal. She is venerable. She is our guide in our realm and keeps it prosperous. She is our shield from pestilence and famine. She is the observer, the ultimate guardian of the land, and she will preserve the natural order of things. Her presence ensures that the land is not destroyed or altered in a damaging way. She will allow the land to thrive in the face of these cosmic challenges. She is as old as the planet that we stand upon. She is its ultimate guardian and can be merciless when provoked.” DeVaine and the Invoking Tree nodded in agreement, recognizing the importance of harmonizing their efforts with the natural world. They understood that Mother Nature’s role would be to maintain the sanctity of the land, ensuring that it lasted even as the forces of light and dark clashed in the physical and cosmic planes. They began to forge a plan, one that would prevail and be victorious.
DeVaine, Amelia and The Invoking Tree, each aware of the urgency to form a plan, brought their collective magic together. They knew that with Beatrix at the Invoking Tree, she would remain the anchor to preserve the balance. The trio decided that DeVaine, Markus and Amelia would venture down to the village where the malevolent entity temporarily called home.
They set out for the village, their steps guided by their commitment to unity and cosmic balance. As they drew closer, the three scouts bore witness to the unspeakable atrocities that the corrupted soldiers were committing. The village, once a place of tranquility had become a nightmarish scene of brutality. The dark existence of the Chort hung heavy in the air. They knew that their presence was needed to confront the evil and stand against the Chort’s insidious influence. The coven and the Invoking Tree would provide guidance from afar, they prepared to face the horrors that awaited them in the village. Determined to preserve the cosmic balance and protect the land from further darkness.
CHAPTER 12
MARKUS, AMELIA AND DeVAINE
Amelia, Markus and DeVaine approached the village shrouded in a mist created by Amelia’s skill over the air. The cool mist was ignited with DeVaine’s power as she camouflaged them. The veil of mist concealed their presence, allowing them to move unseen and unheard through the nightmarish scene. They encountered a grisly, macabre heap of different human body parts. The villagers that would not bow to the Chort were now decaying in pieces in the field next to the cattle. The buzzing of flies along with the crawling of maggots made the scene seem like it was one live organism, melding human and bovine together.
As they ventured deeper into the village, the mist acted as their protective cloak, shielding them from the corrupted soldiers. The atrocities they bore witness to fueled their determination to confront the Chort. They need to stand against the darkness that had encroached upon the land. As they walked, the villagers had the look of defeat etched upon their faces. Sorry filled the hearts of the trio. They came to the center of the village, there at the base of a statue of the archangel Michael were the heads that once rested on the shoulders that now lay in the field. Their milky, blind eyes staring into the void, causing them to shimmer in the Blood Moon’s glow. Amelia felt as though she would be sick, Markus placed his hand on her shoulder balancing her back into focus. There sitting on top of the statue was the Chort. DeVaine abruptly stopped and studied her foe. His tusks were stained with blood and he had dark burgundy specks on his chest.
The evil being stared right at Amelia, sending a shiver through her body. Markus felt her anxiety and stepped in front of her, he raised his hands toward the statue.The Chort snuffed at the air and let out a mighty bellow, reverberating against the marble. The deep roar vibrated the air, making Amelia quickly cover her ears. Large tears were streaming down her face, Markus turned and put his forehead onto hers, sending his calming energy into her mind.
The Chort, perched atop the statue emanated an aura of darkness and malevolence. His appearance was a nightmarish spectacle, a visual embodiment of the forces that had encroached upon the village. His long, bloody tusks protruded from his misshaped mouth, curving downward like deadly scimitars. Atop his grotesque head, he bore twisted goat-like horns that spiraled upward. Their sinister curves adding to his grisly display, the Blood Moon’s crimson aura casting a sinister glow onto them. A coarse mane of hair, like a menacing mohawk ran from his skull, down his back to the tip of his tail. An unkempt and bristly cascade that exuded an air of primal evil. The thick black, hairs were matted and as dark as midnight, emphasizing his untamed and malignant nature. His “loincloth”, a term that hardly did justice to its ragged and grotesque appearance, hung in tatters. A symbol of his disregard for the mundane and a testament to his chaotic nature.
As they stepped closer, an overwhelming stench of rancid evil hung in the air, assaulting their senses. It was an otherworldly odor, reminiscent of the darkest corners of the underworld. The sulfur emanated from every pore, mixed with his disgusting hygiene. DeVaine wrinkled her nose in distaste, her divine nature recoiling from the repugnant and unholy scent. The noxious smell only reinforced the sinister presence, a reminder of the dark forces he represented. It was a scent that lingered, a palpable manifestation of his nastiness.
As Amelia, Markus and DeVaine moved closer, they bore witness to the grotesque creatures he had summoned. One of these creatures, its form twisted and monstrous, was in the midst of consuming a dead cow. It gnawed on the carcass, pieces of decaying flesh fell in clumps as it pulled and yanked at the twisted spine. Its distorted face had fat, black flies buzzing around it. The beast’s actions reflect the depravity of the Chort’s influence. The scene was a nightmarish taboo, a chilling reminder of the darkness that had overtaken the village. The creatures, monstrous and chaotic, epitomized the madness and horror that allowed the Chort to thrive. As they continued to observe, they knew that their collective energies would confront the malevolence, but they needed a plan. The mist carried them back to the forest where they would need to seek the guidance of the Invoking Tree and the coven.
The trio, veiled in the protective mist, were carried back to the coven and the Invoking Tree. They brought with them the unsettling knowledge of what they had encountered in the village. Beatrix was informed of the darkness they had bore witness to. As the coven gathered they listened with their hearts heavy with the weight of the atrocities that had infected the village below. The unity and resolve of the coven were fortified for they knew that the cosmic harmony hung in the balance.
Their plan in place and their determination unwavering, Beatrix led a group of witches from the coven, each with their unique powers, towards the outskirts of the village. Their mission was to confront and neutralize the nightmarish creatures that the Chort had summoned. They worked in silence with the element of surprise on their side. As they approached the entities, the coven’s powers were unleashed. A display of mystical abilities that ranged from elemental control to psychic prowess. They moved with stealth and precision, determined to cleanse the land.
Beatrix was the first to strike with her mastery over the element of fire. She raised her outstretched hand toward one of the nightmares that the planet had vomited forth. She focused her power and her rage, she channeled the essence of fire itself. In a dazzling display, a sudden burst of intense heat and searing flames erupted from her path. The bright, orange flames temporarily blinded the beast as it rocketed towards it. The fire enveloped the nightmarish creature, its grotesque form writhing in agony as the flames consumed it. A haunting shriek of torment pierced the air as the creature’s features contorted in agony. It was being consumed as it was engulfed in the fiery inferno. Her power was a force to be reckoned with, and her display of raw, elemental mastery was a testament to the abilities of the coven. In the face of darkness, her powers blazed brightly, ensuring that the malevolent entities would be vanquished with a cleansing by fire.
Another witch possessed the formidable power of telekinesis, with the ability to crush objects with her thoughts. As she closed in on a nightmarish creature, she focused her psychic powers on its skull. The creature’s skull began to deform and splinter under the invisible pressure from her mind. The cracking and popping of bone reverberated against the mountains. It raised its clawed hands and grabbed at its face and ears. It let out an unearthly, pained howl, as its skull caved in, collapsing like a shattered, crystal vase. It fell to the ground in a bloody heap, its brain, now a pile of mush slowly sank into the puddle.
Amid the chaotic fray, one unfortunate witch momentarily let her guard down. In a brutal and swift attack, one of the creatures lunged forward, disemboweling her with savage ferocity. As the witch fell to the ground, her fellow coven members turned their attention to the horrifying sight. Beatrix, her powers of fire burning with an intense fury, reacted with a blaze of fiery wrath. She directed her flames at the creature. The nightmarish entity, already bloodied from its savage attack, was engulfed in a searing inferno. Its monstrous form writhed in torment, high pitched screams echoed through the valley. The coven’s loss was avenged in a cleansing by fire.
Beatrix and the remaining scouts, their battle against the nightmarish creatures won but not without cost, started back to their forest. They encountered four more of these grotesque creatures near their path. Their combined power dispatched the beasts, determined to rid the planet of this scourge. During the battle, a warlock was grievously wounded, his body sliced open by a swipe of a claw. The massive talons were wielded by a dog-like creature that snarled and growled. Miraculously the warlock managed to survive the vicious attack. The healing abilities of his fellow coven scouts came to his aid. They stabilized him enough to get back to Amelia and her amazing healing powers. Beatrix and the scouts decided to regroup and make their way back to the Invoking Tree. Their unwavering determination and commitment to the preservation of the cosmic balance, even in the face of great evil, was resolute. As they approached the tree, they carried with them the memory of their fallen comrade and the knowledge that their battle against the Chort had only begun.
CHAPTER 13
THE EVIL DISPLAY
The Chort knew that some of his compatriots had fallen to the witches. He was intrigued by the witch with the ability to control fire. He wanted her as his captive, he needed her in the depths of Hades inferno. Her formidable power over flame and her role as one of the leaders of the coven, made her a significant target for his abduction intentions. The Chort recognized her abilities, seeing in her a force that he could potentially pervert to his advantage. He aimed to corrupt her and to bring her to the brink of her inner darkness. He sensed a powerful and sometimes uncontrollable rage inside of her, all he had to do was find a weakness and poke.
Upon discovering the remains of his fallen lackeys, at first he felt a cruel satisfaction in the brutality displayed. Their actions, and vengeance aligned with his malevolent and evil nature, he was momentarily pleased by their dark deed. A twisted, creepy smile crept across his face. However, his satisfaction quickly turned to anger when he sensed the creature’s failure to maintain control and destroy the witches. In his mind’s eye he could see some of his beasts running in fear, tripping over one another to avoid the witch’s wrath. He clenched his jaw, displaying the massive muscles under his dry, cracked skin. He decided he needed to take things into his own hands. The village, the villagers and that coven would pay for their insolence. He knew that he needed something extreme and his demented, insane mind thought of exactly what message needed to be sent.
The Chort sought out the mystic, recognizing his potential to be a powerful pawn in his plans. Along with the mystic, they abducted ten unsuspecting villagers, intending to subject them to their heinous plans. The Chort gathered the abducted villagers, each clinging to the person next to them, sheer terror filled their eyes. His evil was pushing and shoving them. There in the shadow of the Blood Moon he subjected them to unspeakable acts of cruelty and torture. Relentless and merciless the Chort reveled in the villager’s suffering. Their pained screams echoing through the night as he wielded his dark powers. Their suffering became a symphony of pain and despair causing the beasts in the square to become even more chaotic and scattered. Once the villagers died, the Chort instructed his most loyal followers to place the bodies near the edge of the forest in the clearing and await further instructions.
The Chort’s crazed desires insatiable and his patience waning, turned his intentions towards the mystic. He had grown weary of the mystic’s presence feeling that his powers were unnecessary and he was no longer vital. He glared at the mystic, sensing his defiance, wanted to rid himself of this inconvenient pawn. The mystic, unaware of the danger that loomed, was about to face the evil and madness of the Chort.
The Chort stepped closer to the mystic, with a sudden and vicious motion he stepped forward and seized the mystic around the neck. His powerful grip cutting off the airway of his one time friend. The wizard kicked and bucked wildly as the Chort lifted him into the air. He raised the mystic to his face, their eyes locked in a chilling exchange. A large smile sprang to the face of the Chort, curiously tilting his head to the side, exhibiting a total lack of sanity behind the expression. The Chort, with a violent shake, rattled the mystic. The force of the action exerting a cruel dominance over his captive, the mystic clung to consciousness. The Chort’s large cloven feet stomped as he screamed in the terrified mystic’s face, shaking him even more violently. Unconsciousness finally granted, he hung in a floppy mess. His gray hair hanging in stringy, sweat soaked strands as he gasped in ragged breaths. The Chort threw him to the ground, and stomped on his forehead. The mystic’s head exploded, globs of brain sprayed in every direction, causing the chaos around to suddenly stop. The Chort began to laugh, he had his centerpiece for his display. He had his body removed to the clearing near the edge of the forest, following along, the Chort also began his journey to the clearing. He had something very special in mind just for the witches, something to unbalance them and create anarchy. He needed that divine being with them to know exactly what he was capable of doing, his darkness not yet fully unleashed. The billowy shadow figures he had risen, followed close behind, never really leaving the Chort’s side. Creatures made of pure evil, a slice of darkness on the material plane. No physical bodies, they were a formidable asset to the Chort, and one he planned on using.
The Chort arrived at the dark and eerie clearing, he issued chilling instructions to his eager followers. He commanded them to construct wooden crosses, casting a sinister shadow over the land. The followers, obedient to the Chort’s commands, set to work, fashioning wooden crosses with ominous and foreboding purposes. It was clear that the crosses would not serve a holy purpose but would be instruments of malevolence and despair. The cosmic equilibrium hung in the balance. The forces of light and dark were about to clash in a spectacular way. The Chort hoped that his display would summon the witches to him, planning an ambush to abduct the witch with control over flames.
The Chort commanded his followers to place the lifeless bodies of the villagers and the mystic onto the grim wooden crosses. The nightmarish scene unfolded with an air of dark ritual, an unsettling act that sang to his demented spirit. The bodies were secured upon the crosses, their limbs bound to the wood, creating a horrifying display of death. The Chort’s intentions were clear. This macabre spectacle was a confirmation of his power, cruelty and dominance over the village and his followers. As the Chort’s followers carried out this gruesome act, the land itself seemed to recoil in horror. The crosses, heavy with the weight of the villagers, needed to be inverted to anchor them to the ground.
His followers, following his dark instructions, doused the wooden crosses with gasoline and lit them ablaze. The flames erupted into a roaring inferno, consuming the crosses and the bodies of the villagers and mystic. The acrid smell of burning flesh wafted through the witches’ forest, it was a morbid display of torment and death. As the flames raged, the Chort danced around the blazing pyre, his presence seemingly feeding the fire’s ferocity. The inferno grew, licking at the night sky. It began to consume the hill and surrounding trees, casting an eerie light onto the spectacle of the dancing Chort. His dark ritual threatened to plunge the village and the cosmic balance into an abyss of unrelenting madness.
Markus, Amelia and DeVaine, drawn by the horrifying scene, ventured to investigate. To their astonishment, they beheld a breathtaking sight. Mother Nature, a colossal and ancient being of the natural world loomed over the clearing. Her presence was majestic and powerful, her form towering above the devastation. Her face had a look of annoyance as she pursed her lips. Her ancient skin rippling in the breeze created by the chaos. She closed her eyes and with a wave of her immense hand, summoned a deluge of water from the very essence of the skies. The flames that the Chort had so masterfully ignited were extinguished with a loud, “hiss”. Smoke and steam wafted up and out of the valley, carried by wind created by Mother Nature blowing the stench with a mighty puff from her mouth. The flames were snuffed out, their ferocity quelled by the power of Mother Nature. The guardian of the planet, fierce and unyielding, protecting the land from the malevolence that sought to destroy it. The trio watched in awe as Mother Nature’s ancient and benevolent power prevailed over the Chort’s malevolence. Her intervention was a display to the forces that sought to preserve the natural world from darkness and despair.
In a voice that echoed like the rumble of thunder, Mother Nature spoke to the Chort. Her words were a resounding declaration to her unwavering commitment to protecting the planet, “I will never allow this planet to be destroyed, disgusting being.” Her booming voice vibrated the trees causing the remaining autumn leaves to float to the ground. Her words were a fierce rebuke, a declaration to the forces that chose to destroy the planet.
The Chort, confronted by the colossal and unyielding presence of Mother Nature, could only cower in the face of her power. Her words were a reminder that the forces of darkness could never prevail when the sanctity of the land was at stake.
Defeated and driven back by the might of Mother Nature, the Chort fled from the clearing. As he retreated to the village, he could only do so as a defeated and humiliated figure. Mother Nature’s indomitable power had proven that the forces that chose to do harm to the planet would not prosper. The dark shadows that never strayed from the Chort felt his shame and despair hatched a plan of their own.
CHAPTER 14
THE SHADOW BEINGS
The three shadow beings, entities of pure darkness, existed without a physical form. Their essence was like that of an ever changing shadow. They were the embodiment of the darkest dark, their nature defying conventional perception. These beings could change shape at will, their forms shifting and rolling with an otherworldly fluidity. They were shrouded in mystery and evil, their presence profound and unsettling. Capable of defying and adapting to the boundaries of the physical world, the trio floated and soared toward the coven.
While DeVaine, Markus and Amelia remained vigilant, watching Mother Nature’s display of power, the shadow beings set their sights on the coven. They stole away from the Chort, unnoticed, the beast’s cowardice on full display, as he tried to flee Mother Nature’s wrath.They moved like a creeping darkness, drawn towards the coven in an attempt to abduct Beatrix for their leader. As the shadow beings bobbed and weaved through the dense forest, their formless being allowed them an uncanny agility. They could keenly feel the power of the coven emanating through the forest. The energy of the witches, in tune with the natural order, created a formidable force field. The closer the shadow beings drew to the coven, the more they could sense the potent magic. The power of the coven was like a beacon of light in their dark, dark world. It both intrigued them and terrified them. They stopped in the ancient woods, unsure where to penetrate the veil surrounding the coven’s homeland. The shadow beings soared high into the air, their silhouettes brightened by the Blood Moon, searching for a weakness.
At the western side of the coven’s territory, the beings found a potential weakness. A crack in the formidable shroud that surrounded the coven’s lands. They aimed to exploit the hidden passage, allowing them to infiltrate the sacred grounds. The shadow beings set their sights on this point of entry. Their ever-shifting and formless nature made them ideal for navigating the smallest gaps and crevices. They intended to exploit this new found weakness to penetrate the heart of the witches’ territory. They moved closer to their intended target and readied themselves for the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead. They needed to locate the witch that the master wanted, bringing her back would make the shadow beings invaluable.
The shadow beings, using their formless nature, managed to seep through a crack in the coven’s defenses and infiltrate the sacred grounds. Stealthily, they floated above the witches’ homes and sacrificial lands, staying concealed in the shadows. However, their presence did not go unnoticed. The Invoking Tree, a protector of the coven’s powers sensed their intrusion. Its ancient wisdom and connection to the natural world allow it to identify the malevolent interlopers. As the shadow beings continued to lurk in the darkness, they were now faced with a formidable adversary in the Invoking Tree.
In a subtle yet resonating call, the Invoking Tree reached out to Beatrix, summoning her to the sacred place. Its connection to the coven was profound and it conveyed the urgency in the situation. Beatrix, attuned to the Invoking Tree’s voice, felt the call and knew something was amiss. She prepared to answer the summons, ready to confront the imminent threat and protect the coven. She was unaware of the true reason the shadow beings had breached their territory, only wanting to rid their sacred land of the intruders.
Beatrix understood the gravity of the situation and summoned two of her fellow witches. Each possessing the ability over spirits. They were the coven’s most adept spirit handlers, and their abilities were crucial in this time of peril. She whispered an incantation and with a gesture of her hand, Beatrix called upon her comrades. One witch held the power to communicate and compel spirits. The other possessed the ability to manipulate the energies of the spirit world. Together they formed a formidable trio, ready to confront the shadow beings and defend their sacred ground. As they gathered around the Invoking Tree, they felt its ancient presence and prepared to face the evil that had intruded. They were determined to protect the coven and maintain the cosmic balance against the darkness.
The shadow beings, as they lurked above suddenly felt the intrusion of one witch’s power. She delved into their minds. Her psychic abilities penetrated their malevolent intents, seeking to understand and disrupt their dark desires. The other witch, working in tandem with her coven sister, began to channel their collective energies. In response, one shadow flew straight toward one of the witches, its blackness consuming the world around it. It reached out from beyond and sliced her face open. The witch did not release her grip on the shadow beings, blood streamed down her face staining her blouse. Their formidable powers combined generating a piercing white light. The shadow beings began to suffocate in the brightness. The oppressive darkness that they sought to wield started to be smothered. Their high pitched cries reverberated through the coven and vibrated the branches on the nearest trees.
Despite their considerable powers the two witches found themselves gradually losing control over the elusive beings. Their ever shifting nature made them slippery and resistant to the coven’s attempts to suppress them. As the struggle continued, the shadow beings displayed a surprising resilience. They began to push back the coven’s efforts and tried to push the psychic intrusion out. The confrontation between the witches and the shadow beings was far from over. Beatrix stepped forward, realizing the psychic struggle and attempted to unleash her formidable power over fire. She was seeking to incinerate the shadow beings and drive them back to the underworld. However, to her amazement her fiery assault was repelled and the shadow beings were divided and shot away in different directions. Beatrix was astonished that her powers had failed to remove the threat to the sacred grounds.
The shadow beings dispersed into the darkness, retreating into the night. Their silhouettes of total blackness were visible to the trio against the night sky. The coven was left with a renewed sense of the formidable challenges that lay ahead. The battle between the forces of light and the darkest dark continued. The shadow beings now scattered and elusive, their intentions still shrouded in an air of mystery. The ladies regrouped under the lofty branches of the Invoking Tree. The ancient guardian provided comfort, while also allowing Beatrix to come up with another plan.
Under the sheltering branches of the Invoking Tree, the ladies asked for guidance. The tree, an ancient source of wisdom, suggested that two powerful warlocks join their ranks to strengthen their defense against the shadow beings. The first warlock had the power over time and could manipulate temporal forces. The second had the ability to harness the elements, particularly his control of wind and storms. These two formidable warlocks brought their unique powers to the trio. They further fortified their abilities and increased their chances of prevailing in the ongoing battle. Guided by the wisdom of the tree, the small band was directed to the location of the shadow beings. They had reassembled at the southern tip of the coven’s territory, near the foreboding cliffs that marked the edge of the sacred land. They prepared to confront the shadow beings once again. The added powers of the warlocks made them better equipped to face this challenge and defend their home.
As Beatix prepared to lead the coven in the upcoming confrontation, she couldn’t help but wonder about the well being of Amelia, Markus and DeVaine. The trio had gone to investigate the fire and she hoped they were safe and unharmed. In the midst of their own battle against the shadow beings, Beatrix’s concern for her fellow witches and their ally was a reminder of the bonds that held the coven together.
Amelia and Markus, still concerned about the coven, had the opportunity to witness DeVaine’s power. As she dispatched the Chort’s remaining followers with a mere flick of her hand, they marveled at the ease she reduced them to dust. DeVaine’s powers that she wielded were formidable. She could effortlessly neutralize the malevolence that had lingered in the Chort’s wake. Her actions were a display of raw power that the coven possessed and a reminder that they were capable of confronting and repelling the evil.
The witches, warlocks and Beatrix made their way to the southern border of the coven’s territory; to the cliffs. Their steps were filled with purpose, they prepared to face the evil forces that sought to penetrate their sacred land. The showdown between light and dark was imminent. The coven readied themselves for a pivotal battle that would determine the fate of the coven, the village and the cosmic balance itself.
As the coven approached the shadow beings, the warlocks sprang into action. The warlock with the power over time wielded his abilities, freezing the beings in mid air. This rendered them immobile and helpless. They struggled against the warlock’s grip. Simultaneously, the other warlock harnesses the forces of wind and rain, causing a powerful storm to envelop the shadow beings. The witches seized the opportunity, moving in to meld the suspended beings together. Their collective power over the spirits allowed them to channel the energy, fusing the creatures into one captive force. They awaited Beatrix to execute the final steps in their battle plan, determined to neutralize the encroaching darkness. Just as Beatrix was about to unleash her power over flame, a sudden struggle from the melded beings caused a disruption. One of the shadow beings managed to break free from the collective hold. It swooped and dove towards the witches. It hit one with all of its force, knocking her to the ground. It pounced onto her, sinking its darkness down into her soul. The witch screamed in agony as the shadow consumed her humanity. She stood and pulled at her face and hair, she was obviously trying to fight the dark invader. She began to walk in circles and then towards the edge of the mountain. In an effort to keep the sanctity of the coven ground sacred, the witch threw herself over the cliff. Her agonizing screams could be heard echoing through the valley as she landed in a mangled heap. The shadow phased in and out of her as she fell, the feeling of triumph filled the air as large tears rolled down Beatrix’s face.
Fueled by rage and the urgency of the situation, Beatrix channeled her immense power over flame. She unleashed a devastating force. Her intense focus summoned a funnel cloud of fire that roared from the depths of the planet’s core. The fiery vortex, spiraling upward began to consume the shadow being. Beatrix’s eyes rolled over to black as she commanded the fire. She was leaving no room for the evil to escape. She was breathing heavily and sweating, continuing to push the shadow up and up. The warlocks and remaining witch pushed the two other beings closer to Beatrix’s vortex of flame. As the shadows ascended, the radiant glow of the Blood Moon bathed them in its celestial glow. The darkness inside of the entities began to dissipate, consumed by the lunar light. The creatures screamed as they were destroyed, their high pitched wails were heard across the valley. Beatrix collapsed into a heap, her energy spent, her life force draining from her. The remaining witch ran to her side, one warlock lifted their unconscious sister and led her back to the Invoking Tree. The balance had been temporarily restored, but at what cost? The coven remained vigilant, ready to face more threats coming to their home lands.
CHAPTER 15
BEATRIX
The warlock gently placed Beatrix’s limp and pale body at the base of the Invoking Tree, her life force waning. The entire coven was present, seeking shelter under the Invoking Tree’s force field against the shadow beings. They all gasped when they saw Beatrix. She had spent all of her energy ridding the sacred lands from the evil darkness, the Invoking Tree began to glow. It placed its soft branches onto Beatrix’s body and began to slightly vibrate, the coven began to hum. Despite the tree’s ancient wisdom, it became apparent that it couldn’t provide the aid that she required. Beatrix’s condition was dire, and the coven now faced the urgent need to revive her before it was too late. The Invoking Tree responding to the desperate situation, sent out powerful summons to Amelia, Markus and DeVaine. The urgency of the situation compelled them to come swiftly. Beatrix’s life hung in the balance and the coven was facing a critical moment.
As Amelia, Markus and DeVaine returned back to the Invoking Tree, they knew that the situation was bleak and Beatrix was fading quickly. Amelia sought the counsel of the Invoking Tree to try and guide her healing powers, Amelia was in a state of internal panic. Her guide through life placed a glowing branch on her shoulder. She began to glow, her eyes shone an otherworldly bright blue as she began to sway back and forth. Amelia started to foam at the mouth, twitching violently. Markus, seeing Amelia in peril, needed to break the connection. He yanked Amelia away from the tree, they both fell together next to Betrix. Amelia released her sadness in a mighty, agonizing cry. She sat up and placed her hand onto her sister’s face and softly sobbed, her shoulders bouncing up and down. The Invoking Tree hung its lofty branches in defeat, it could not help Beatrix. The tree began to glow a deep purple, the air around it filled with tension, the coven all began to chant softly. The ancient sentinel reached out to Mother Nature for assistance in recovering the witch with the commanding power over earth. The tree requested the aid of the true guardian of the planet and humbly asked for guidance.
In an awesome display of her earthbound powers, Mother Nature gently and slowly lowered Beatrix’s body into the earth. A collective gasp could be heard through the coven, as they watched the remarkable scene unfolding before their eyes. She sank to the very core of the planet, to her elemental powers. As she descended the ground gradually sealed itself above her concealing her from view. The transformation was an awe inspiring event that displayed the connection between the witch with the power over the earth and the natural world. Beatrix had become one with the dirt, her life energy intertwined with the essence of the planet.
The coven watched both in awe and reverence as Mother Nature’s intervention saved Beatrix from the brink of death. Her fate was now intertwined with the earth, her elemental powers melded with the powers of the planet. The coven awaited her return under the watchful, secure branches of the old guardian, an anxious vibe filled the air. It was like a stagnant breath of air, the oxygen it provided sustained life but it bombarded the senses. They weaved intricate spells and incantations, lighting familial candles in honor of Beatrix. The sat vigil awaiting their beloved to return. The witches in the coven that had elemental powers over the earth, no matter how limited, were called upon by the Invoking Tree to secure the land where Beatrix vanished. The seven witches stood hand in hand around the very spot, their eyes closed and softly chanting, their collective powers calling to Mother Nature.
A deep rumble was audible coming from the earth, causing the ground to tremble and pulse. It was stirred by unseen forces. The soil began to shift and rise from the ground, creating a large mound that seemed to breathe as it grew taller. All present could feel the presence of the earth responding to their call. They remained watchful, uncertain of this new development. As the ground continued to shift, Beatrix’s body gradually resurfaced. She emerged from the earth from where she was drawn. Her return to the surface was a mesmerizing sight, a deep connection between the coven and the earth.
Beatrix had been granted a second chance at life, and her revival was marked by the profound connection she had to the earth. Her eyes fluttered open, they emitted a soft, gentle yellow glow. The luminous radiance was a unique phenomenon, showing her connection to the coven’s power and the cosmic forces that intervened in her resurrection. The soft glow served as a symbol of her renewed life and her alignment with the balance of light and dark. She sat up and looked at her sister, tears ran down Amelia’s face. She went to her sister’s side, a feeling of relief washing over her.
Beatrix’s revival had left a mark upon her, she now possessed an ethereal connection that transcended her previous existence. The coven’s bonds with Mother Nature had played a role in her return and transformed her. As the Invoking Tree’s glowing branches extended to touch Beatrix’s arm, it could feel the change in her. It felt the newfound connection she held with the mystical forces that surrounded them. The ever-evolving magic of their world and the enduring balance wove its intricate threads through their lives.
Amelia, her heart filled with joy, embraced her sister and held her close. She couldn’t contain her curiosity after witnessing the extraordinary scene that transformed her sister. Amelia asked Beatrix, her gaze inquisitive and loving, “Beatrix, what happened? Are you OK? You seem different. Tell me everything, dear sister.” Beatrix began to explain to her sister what had transpired during her encounter with the shadow beings and the intervention with Mother Nature. She described the authoritative display of power that the shadow beings harnessed over the darkness. She explained the struggle and the brilliant magic that had taken place during her near death experience. She had an ethereal connection and a sense of reverence in her voice. She detailed her experience of being embraced by the very essence of the planet. Amelia listened attentively, absorbing the mystical tale of her sister’s journey. Together they shared the knowledge and wisdom gained with the rest of the coven.
DeVaine’s interest in Beatrix’s resurrection was palpable, her newfound elemental bond with the planet opened an entire world of questions. DeVaine needed to know just how deep Beatrix’s power went, she needed to assess if she posed a threat. She contemplated the ways in which Beatrix was enhanced and how much she had harnessed. DeVaine touched Beatrix on the arm and she instantly knew that she was, indeed, enhanced. Her bond went farther than her elemental powers, she now was bonded to the flora and fauna of the planet. She could extend to plants and animals, granting the ability to communicate and understand the natural world. Beatrix’s new power was a wondrous extension of her bond with the earth. DeVaine’s smile broadened as she could feel Beatrix’s ability to foster symbiotic relationships with the plants and animals. It created a harmonious coexistence that benefitted the natural world. She could work in tandem with the creatures and vegetation to protect the balance of the ecosystem. Beatrix could also gain insight and guidance from the natural world. Plants and animals could provide information or warn them of possible threats. These new powers would strengthen the coven’s commitment to safeguarding their sacred land. The coven would always try to maintain a cosmic balance, as they planned for battle with the Chort. Her role in the coven and the upcoming confrontation took on a new significance.
The coven, to maintain balance and show their gratitude to Mother Nature, took on a rejuvenation project. The land of their focus was the clearing where the Chort’s fire ravaged the earth. They went to the field, buried the remains of the villagers, upon seeing the devastation, sorrow filled their hearts. They conducted healing and revitalization rituals, channeling their magical energies into the land. They wanted to promote healing and recovery. The ceremonies included spells to encourage plant growth, and the animal life to rebound. Through their actions, the coven not only revitalized the once charred clearing but also strengthened their connection to the planet and Mother Nature. As a symbol of nature’s renewal, Mother Nature graced the graves of the villagers with a delicate gift. She brought a cascade of vibrant blooms as a tribute to those who had passed. The flowers gently covered the graves, creating a serene and natural memorial.
CHAPTER 15
DeVAINE AND THE CHORT
DeVaine was intrigued and determined as she ventured into the village in search of the Chort. Her imposing figure and otherworldly presence drew attention from those who were still held captive. The villagers that were still alive were aware of the supernatural forces at play. They whispered and glanced nervously as DeVaine made her way through the deserted streets. Her quest to find the Chort echoed with an air of both curiosity and a brewing confrontation. The ancient entity sought to understand and to confront the demonic force that had once wreaked havoc upon the land.
Despite her formidable presence, DeVaine found herself unable to locate the elusive Chort. It had fled in fear when she wielded her power in the clearing. The deceitful entity seemed to have slipped away, leaving behind only traces of his energy. DeVaine’s search heightened the mystery surrounding its whereabouts. The village remained eerily quiet with the absence of the demonic force, the wind rustled the autumn leaves through the center of town. The corrupted troops had taken up residence at various homes in the village, they watched silently, with malice in their eyes. DeVaine was undeterred and continued her vigil, ever watchful for signs that may lead her to the elusive evil.
In a grim and unexpected discovery, DeVaine located the Chort hiding within the carcasses of the dead cows. The ancient demonic entity, once formidable, now sought refuge in the lifeless shells of the fetid and rancid remains. DeVaine’s presence near the deceased creatures sent a shiver through the dawning sky, she tilted her head back and sniffed the air deeply. She knew his energies were there but the other creatures living in the cold meat made it difficult to pinpoint. She could feel her daytime counterpart about to make his appearance, redying to shine his warmth onto the earth. Her lunar powers now resided on the other side of the planet, she almost winced when she looked into the rising sun. The sky was a bright purple and orange, sending an eerie crimson glow onto the field of graves. Mother Nature’s flowers shone brightly as they awaited the rising sun. DeVaine, frustratingly began to tear at the dead cows, rotted flesh landed in heaps that slapped in the morning dew. The Chort sprang out of his hiding place surrounded by an aura of bright flame, his talons shimmering in the cardinal light. He hissed loudly at DeVaine, a decaying heffer hanging from his horns. His aura began to change, his face contorting as a silent scream filled his eyes. DeVaine ignited her power as her hands began to smolder, she was ready to evaporate this beast, securing the balance of good and evil. The Chort began to emit an ominous hum, its pitch increasing with every pulse as it began to rise in the air. DeVaine met his height, floating like two gunslingers, they squared off. The stage was set for a momentous encounter between the ancient entities that sought to shape the destiny of the world. DeVaine, not at her full celestial power, was struggling to penetrate the Chort’s force field like aura. The Chort’s hum had reached fever pitch as he began to pulse out bright light. Large rings of flame shot out from him, ever increasing in intensity with each vibration. His bright red and orange luminescence began to glow a deep purple. Every throb and the light grew darker and darker until it began to turn bright blue, The Chort’s circles of fire also grew in intensity, until he pulled it all in and the humming ceased, creating a deafening silence. His aura went black, he temporarily vanished in the darkness. Devaine, her hands now shining a deep burgundy pushed her incredible but muted power towards the Chort. She struck him in the chest just as a large, blinding blue pulse came from him, he fell to the earth. His heavy body splashing down in the decrepit remains. DeVaine, was thrown from the sky and landed, cat-like near the clearing. She screamed toward the Chort, as he staggered to his feet, looking across the town to the goddess now in the clearing. He screamed loudly in her direction as he cowardly fled into the forest and mountains. DeVaine could feel her power waning, she needed to get to the Invoking Tree to restore her being, to recharge for another bout and inform the witches of the situation The setting sun would bring back her lunar abilities, at dusk she would feel her strength at full power. It was time to confront and eliminate that creature from the planet. DeVaine was now invested into this with her god-like ego. She would not allow this being to win. Her ego demanded that she be victorious.
DeVaine returned to the Invoking Tree seeking solace and rejuvenation after her confrontation with the Chort. The ancient energies emanating from the tree offered a comforting embrace, allowing DeVaine to recharge and await the lunar rise. She needed to prepare for the events that would unfold under the light of the autumn moon, her powers would be completely restored. In the sacred space, DeVaine would await the celestial ascension and inform the witches of the unsettling encounter in the village. The Invoking Tree stood as a silent witness to the unfolding saga, its ever watchful eyes searching for the Chort. Its branches offered ancient wisdom, whispering guidance to the coven who gathered underneath its lofty branches. Its sheltering boughs gave the coven a sense of security. They knew that the ancient guardian of their sacred lands would never allow an interloper into the inner circle.
DeVaine began to recount the unsettling encounter with the Chort. Her words carried the weight of ancient wisdom as she described the malevolent force seeking refuge in the husks of lifeless cows. “The Chort, once a formidable presence, was hiding in the very shadow of death. It sought sanctuary among the remains of the dead cattle, a disturbing choice that reveals desperation. He was only able to hide from me as the moon is on the other side of the world right now, my brother, the solar god has risen.” She paused and looked to the sky, raising her hand to shield her eyes and continued. “The beast and I grappled, in the throes of battle, we clashed with the forces of opposing energies. Its evil tossed me into the clearing as I shot him out of the air with my powers. It sought a cowardly retreat, fleeing into the forest and vanishing. But fear not, for its escape is but a temporary respite, we must remain steadfast.” As DeVaine spoke, the sun’s soft glow filtered through the leaves, casting an ethereal light upon the coven. They stood in united silence, listening and absorbing everything DeVaine was saying. The Invoking Tree stood sentinel, its roots deeply intertwined with the fate of those who would protect the delicate balance between the ever shifting equilibrium of light and darkness.
DeVaine, wearied by the confrontation, leaned against the ancient tree. Its bark, weathered by the centuries, cradled her with a comforting embrace. The coven members united in purpose, worked diligently around the sacred tree. Incantations filled the air and spells were woven into the land. Together they created a protective aura around the tree. Each uttered word and carefully crafted gesture contributed to the strengthening of the mystical barrier. The energy intertwined with the ancient forces, setting the stage for the rising of the moon. Its profound magic awaited to be under the moonlit canopy. As DeVaine watched the coven’s combined efforts, a quiet determination flickered in her eyes.
Beatrix stepped forward, swirling winds enveloping her as she commanded the power of the land. Her voice, carried by the elemental powers she controlled, called upon the predators of the region. She wanted them to encircle the outlying territory near the tree. The response was swift and primal. From the depths of the enchanted forest, predators emerged – wolves padded softly in, owls landed with silent wings, and elusive mountain lions began to pace, all answering Beatrix’s call. They formed a protective perimeter, their presence both a symbol of nature’s guardianship and a formidable defense. The coven, witnessing the harmonious collaboration between the witches and the natural world, stood resilient. They were ready to face the upcoming rising of the moon.
As the moon ascended, bathing the land in its silvery glow, DeVaine, now at full power, extended her senses across the forest and mountains. Her gaze, infused with ancient knowledge, swept through the shadows, searching for the elusive Chort. Sweeping side to side, DeVaine sent her powers out to the far reaches, beyond the sacred land and village, searching for any sign of the cowardly Chort. The air crackled with anticipation and static as her connection to the land deepened. She could feel the subtle energies, the pulse off the earth and the faint echo of the Chort. Across the mountain in a dark and foreboding forest, the ancient adversary had left a subtle imprint on the mystical fabric of the land. DeVaine’s eye gleaned over with determination, and a broad smile lightened her face. The coven, in tune with the ebb and flow of their sacred land could feel the shift in her focus. It was time to confront the Chort. As the moon’s radiance spoke to its goddess, DeVaine lifted into the air and with a great gust of wind she was gone.
In the village below a lieutenant, now a puppet in the Chort’s perverted plan, rallied his fellow corrupted soldiers. Their eyes shone with a dark fervor as they prepared to invade the coven’s sacred lands. The lieutenant, driven by a twisted allegiance to the evil entity, urged the soldiers forward. Their footsteps echoed through the village, an inconsistent march fueled by malevolence, brought a temporary feeling of relief as the evil left. The impending clash between the soldiers and the coven added tension to the already charged atmosphere.
The army marched boldly into the enchanted forest. However, the very flora that had once served as a barrier from the coven’s territory now seemed to awaken. It, collectively, had a life force of its own. Nature, attuned with Beatrix and the ancient magic rose to defend the sacred land. Every path that the soldiers attempted to tread became a labyrinth of intertwined branches, leaves and roots. The thick undergrowth rose up to meet the low hanging branches of the mythical trees. Frustration and confusion hindered their advance until they, in a desperate attempt, resorted to using a flamethrower. The flames roared to life, consuming the valiant defenses that stood as the guardians of the forest. As the fire spread, the ancient trees whispered their protest, and the forest mourned the violation of its tranquility. The whispers reached out to Beatrix, calling to her for assistance. The soldiers, blinded by the wickedness seeking to disrupt the delicate balance, began to laugh as the flames grew higher.
In tune with the whispers of the ancient forest, Beatrix stood and began to sway, hearing the desperation of the trees. Her eyes ablaze, her rhythmic sway began to get faster, she called upon her sister Amelia. Her power over water held a primal connection to the natural world. Hand in hand, the sisters stood united, a formidable duo ready to harness the elements. Beatrix’s enhancement allowed her to tap into Amelia’s power and intensify it. Beatrix with her swirling wind amplified Amelia’s power over water. Together they conjured a colossal deluge above the flames that was devouring the enchanted land. As the water cascaded down in a torrential downpour, the hiss of flames being put out mingled with the sighs of relief from the forest. The coven, witnessing the elemental connection felt a surge of hope and jubilation. The corrupted soldiers now faced not only the coven’s magic but the might of the ancient land that the coven called home. Undeterred by the elemental response, the soldiers pressed forward. As they navigated through the now waterlogged terrain, the coven, cloaked in their protective veil braced for the imminent clash. The dance between defenders of the sacred land and the corrupted invaders was about to unfold beneath the moonlight canopy.
The coven prepared themselves for the inevitable confrontation within the shelter of the Invoking Tree, they readied their powers and cast incantations. Each witch and warlock attuned to the mystical energies stood resolute. The air buzzed with a blend of anticipation and determination. Amidst the towering trees and the moon’s glow overhead, the witches and warlocks engaged in silent glances. Their strength had no need for words. The stage was set for a clash that would determine the destiny of the enchanted land and the forces that vied for control.
CHAPTER 16
GOOD VS EVIL
DeVaine soared through the night sky, her form outlined by the glow of the silvery moon. She was guided by the faint echo of the Chort’s evil energy, pressing forward to the dark forest. She was unflinching knowing that the ancient enemy lurked within the shadows. She pushed farther away from the Invoking Tree and to the dark forest, determined to confront the ancient adversary that lingered in the shadows. The wooded landscape below began to unfold like a tapestry as DeVaine scanned the land underneath. The air pulsed with a sense of anticipation as the lunar goddess closed in on the heart of the mystical darkness. DeVaine ventured deeper into the enigmatic depth of the darkened forest.
She descended into the heart of the blackened forest, the air crackled with heinous static. As she approached, a foreboding atmosphere surrounded the ancient adversary. The night air thickened as she stepped closer. His mystical energies coalesced with those of the murky unknown melding into an impenetrable veil. The lunar goddess found her prey surrounded by a dense shroud of malevolent shadows, a physical manifestation of the demonic forces that seeped out of every one of his pores. The air pulsed with an otherworldly energy as the two ancient entities stood poised for another confrontation that would echo through the ages. The sacred land held its breath, awaiting the outcome of the mystical clash beneath the light of the moon.
From the advantage point of the Invoking Tree, the coven beheld the approaching horde of evil. As the corrupted soldiers advanced, the primal alliance between the coven and the natural guardians of the land came to life. The predators summoned by Beatrix that circled the outskirts of the coven’s territory, leapt into action. Ferocious creatures, called forth, engaged the horde, teeth barred and claws unsheathed. The predators, their faces covered in blood and their claws still holding onto flesh that had been torn away paced around the soldiers.The sounds of snarls and roars echoed through the primal forest as well as the anguished cries of the mauled troopers. The medieval struggle unfolded under the silvery moonlight and near the sacred tree.The coven witnessing the clash drew strength from the alliance between magic and nature. They began to prepare for the inevitable invasion.
The elders of the coven, recognizing the impending danger, swiftly and carefully moved the vulnerable members toward the protective base of the Invoking Tree. The children and the elderly needed to be protected at all costs. Its weathered branches offered a shield against the encroaching evil. The elders ensured the safety of those who couldn’t actively participate in the impending clash. The base became a refuge, a sanctuary where the youngest and oldest members of the coven could find solace. As the elders arranged the protective shelter, the air hummed with a mixture of ancient incantations and the magic that permeated the sacred space. The tree, a silent sentinel, stood as a citadel against the impending storm of blackness.
The fear and anxiety swept through the ranks of the corrupted army like the roots of the Invoking Tree ran through the sacred land. They witnessed their fellow comrades succumb to the relentless assault of the predators. The ferocity of the creatures, unleashed by the powers of the enhanced Beatrix, left an undeniable mark on the minds of the troopers. They watched as their fellow mercenaries were torn limb from limb by the large bears. Owls swooping down with talons shining in the moonlight gouged out eyes. They continued their assault, the lions were stealthy as they pounced onto their unsuspecting prey from above. The combined effort of the predators took its toll on the invading force. None of the carnivores were hurt or killed in the bloody campaign, their snouts, talons and beaks were covered in the grisly remains of the fallen soldiers. They abruptly stopped their assault, being called away by an unheard voice. Beatrix stood, confused by this development and honed in on the signal, trying to locate the beacon that called to the predators. She closed her eyes and in a flash knew that it was Mother Nature that called back her beloved creatures. Back to the safety of her bosom and the shielding properties that it granted.
Panicked whispers circulated among the evil survivors, a disconcerting realization setting in. The seeds of doubt had been sown, it swept through the ranks like a sickness, bringing the encroaching force to a halt. The once-confident army had just faced a medieval force that transcended the boundaries of their evil allegiance. The air quivered with tension as the soldiers braced themselves for the impending clash with the coven.
Shaken and confused, the surviving soldiers regrouped at the edge of the witches’ ceremonial grounds, where the forest met the open expanse. They were visibly unsettled by the unexpected ferocity of the fierce defense of animals. They gathered at the threshold between the enchantment of the woods and the most sacred space of the coven. There were audible gasps coming from inside the Invoking Tree as the coven members were shocked to see interlopers on their cherished ceremonial grounds. The magical forest began to whisper to the soldiers, muffled echoes of their fallen comrades were carried on the wind, adding to the madness. An air of uncertainty hung over the soldiers as they exchanged glances, plotting their next move.
The soldiers, frustrated and desperate, turned their attention to the sacred altar within the ceremonial grounds. They were trying to draw the witches out. Boldly kicking at the altar, dismantling the sacred symbols, and smashing sacred heirlooms. Their shrill laughter carried on the wind as chaos took hold. They displayed a brazen act of defiance, hoping to provoke a reaction from the witches. The air was thick with tension as the witches watched them commit sacrilege upon their sacred space. The soldiers were trying, in vain, to unravel the mystic threads that bound the ceremonial ground to the sacred forest floor.
DeVaine focused her divine energies in an attempt to penetrate the Chort’s evil shroud. Her ancient powers, attuned with the lunar force, sought to unravel the darkness that cloaked the ancient adversary. In a celestial dance of light and shadow, DeVaine’s essence wove with the dark energies emanating from the Chort. The ancient struggle played out on a metaphysical plane, each striving to assert dominance. She intensified her divine energies, growing brighter as she harnessed the power to pierce through the barrier. As she smoldered with radiant determination, the goddess pressed forward, a force of light breaking through the shadows. The air was charged with static in anticipation of the clash of forces. DeVaine, fueled by her connection to the moon and the ages old energies, began to dismantle the Chort’s defensive shroud. The ground trembled with the struggle, and the moonlit sky bore witness to an ancient confrontation.
In response to DeVaine’s onslaught, the Chort conjured a blue flame within the interior of his protective shield. The azure inferno flickered and danced. It created an ethereal barrier that wrought to repel the lunar goddess’s radiant assault. The moonlit landscape became a mix of celestial hues as the divine glow of DeVaine clashed with the sapphire flames that the Chort manifested. The land bore witness to a mystical struggle,where forces of light and shadow wove an intricate tango, each vying for dominance. Amidst the celestial clash, DeVaine raised her voice to the moon, invoking its ancient strength. The moon, a silent witness to the struggle, responded to the goddess’s plea. It channeled its luminous power to augment her divine abilities. Empowered by the moon’s radiant energy, DeVaine intensified her efforts to breach the Chort’s defenses. The sacred land resonated with the harmonies of celestial forces as the goddess pressed forward with her newfound strength. The air shimmered with the interplay of divine energies and the moonlit night bore witness. The ancient entities clashed beneath the cosmic canopy each seeking to destroy the other.
Devaine, with a mighty surge of her enhanced powers broke through the Chort’s defenses, inflicting injuries to the ancient adversary. The Chort bellowed, shaking the ground and causing the remaining leaves to fall to the ground. He grabbed at his arm as bright green blood oozed from a gash in his shoulder. His eyes, filled with malice, vied the goddess as he hissed in her direction. The goddess had a momentary triumph as she pushed through the malevolent equilibrium that cloaked him in the shadows. In response to the onslaught, the Chort, agile and cunning, leapt into the tangled embrace of the trees. It sought to seek refuge in the gnarled branches. The woods quivered with the residual energies of the clash. DeVaine, undeterred, pursued the ancient adversary through the labyrinth of the dark forest. The pursuit unfolded beneath the silvered glow of the moon, where shadows and moonbeams danced in a cosmic waltz. A symphony of celestial echoes sang through the lands as the chase continued through the heart of the blackened forest.
The witches gathered their collective power, weaving a potent web of mystical energy. The air vibrated with the hum of incantations as the coven prepared for the upcoming assault. Their collective energy, set on destroying the interlopers, was on melding into one. Their sole purpose was to reclaim their sacred ceremonial grounds. Each witch contributed their unique abilities to the ritual, harmonizing with the ancient land. The ceremonial grounds became a vocal point for the convergence of magical energies. They harnessed the wrath of the sacred land, as it cried out for the coven. The air crackled with anticipation as the sacred ground itself seemed to respond to the call for retribution. The witches stood, resolute, their intentions intertwined with the very fabric of the ancient realm.
Amelia, Beatrix and Markus stepped forward, silhouetted by the moonlit night. In unison they became the focal points of power, their presence of harmonized energy resonated through the coven. The trio stood as pillars of mystical strength. Each member emanated a palpable aura, their abilities attuned with their fellow coven members. The Invoking Tree stood silent, a sentinel in the darkness, it knew that no harm would ever come to it. Mother Nature forbade it. It needed to remain vigil to protect the coven and be the shining light in the blackness. The sacred ground beneath them seemed to pulse with the power of the mythical realm. The witches prepared to unleash their collective might upon the encroaching darkness. The moon watched over them, a silent witness to the carnage that was about to unfold.
Beatrix began. The earth started to rumble beneath the ceremonial grounds, the soldiers, taken by surprise, stumbled about. The earth commenced to split around the perimeter of the clearing, making the trees interlock their branches. White smoke started to rise out of the crevice, its blinding heat incinerating the soldiers that stood closest. Their charred remains floated playfully in the misty smoke. Its pearly luminescence gives life to the ash. The coven made branches from the high lofty trees of the canopy whip forward and strike the soldiers randomly and with lightning speed. The evil, confused and terrified, looked around as their comrades were whipped into pieces. Their arms and legs flying through the air as their bloodied corpses fell to the ground. The earth itself seemed repulsed by the evil that had been released when the soldiers bled out. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, Beatrix’s eyes rolled over black. She was annihilating soldiers with disdain for her victims. Amelia, channeling her elemental power over water, enacted a chilling vengeance upon the soldiers that desecrated their sacred altar. She was focused and with a wave of her hand she manipulated the liquid inside of their bodies. Her retribution would not be swift, nor would it be painless. The soldiers began to seep liquid from every orifice and claw at their eyes and ears. At first the liquid was clear, then it turned slightly pink until it turned the crimson shade of blood. Every passing second the liquid grew darker and darker until black sludge oozed out. The men, once filled with arrogance, now withered in agony as their life force drained away. They were left desiccated and hollow, a mere husk of what was once a human being. The coven could feel a vibration other than their own coming from the earth, another horde of evil was approaching. The ancient trees on the outskirts of the coven’s realm echoed a subtle yet urgent call to Beatrix. She focused her energies on the distant border, another wave of evil was about to descend upon the coven sacred grounds. The Chort’s creatures were distantly summoned to overtake the witches’ domain, their loyalty on full display. These hideous creatures sought to infiltrate the enchanted woods. Beatrix asked her beloved flora to create barriers and trails that twisted onto themselves to confuse the creatures, allowing the coven time to eliminate the rest of the soldiers. They continued to confront the evil. The encroaching darkness would be met with a unified front as the coven prepared for another violation of their territory.
From the concealed vantage point within the ancient branches, the Chort unleashed a searing burst of bright yellow flame, aiming with precision at DeVaine. The fire cut through the moonlit night, striking the lunar goddess with an intensity that elicited a pained cry. The sharp, piercing screech carried through the trees causing them to shudder. DeVaine, temporarily caught off guard, retreated from the onslaught of the being’s sulfur flames. The heat left its mark, scorching her divine form and burning her arm with an otherworldly intensity. As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the mystical battlefield DeVaine regrouped. Her resolve was unyielding despite the stinging pain inflicted by the Chort’s defensive fire. She stood beneath the moonlight in a small clearing, and tossed her head back. She sighed loudly as she slid her obsidian fingernails into her ribs, small droplets of blood ran down her sides. She let her hands fall to her sides, the fingernails were absorbed by her body, sealing the wounds as they disappeared. Her ethereal energy pulsated and vibrated, creating an arcane metamorphosis. From the depths of her very being, a radiant armor emergened, the sleek black reflecting the moonlight. The obsidian fingernails, now her armor pulsed with an energy from within and beyond. The delicate winged beings flew off in a living, peaceful cloud, their soft blue light casting shadows onto the ground. They would return to their home, inside the Invoking Tree and await to be called upon again.
In an awe-inspiring display of her god-like prowess, DeVaine silhouetted against the moonlit night, soared upward into the vast sky. Her celestial body embraced the moonbeams in a cosmic dance. As she ascended, a radiant glow enveloped her, sending healing energy from the potent lunar power. The Chort, nestled among the ancient branches, watched with a sense of awe and of terror as DeVaine mended the wounds inflicted by his sulfur fire. His malevolent gaze fixed upon DeVaine, realized the magnitude of the adversary he faced. She was now restored and empowered by lunar energy, descended with a dancer’s grace, her vision focused on the Chort’s hiding place. Her inner centering instinct intensely stared at the Chort’s cowering among the old branches. Her hands began to smolder with a deep and ominous purple hue. The celestial energy she wielded, at her command, manifested in a spectral display. The purple radiance emanating from her hands was a blend of elemental powers and divine transcendence.
DeVaine began to wield her power. In a mesmerizing display, a large, deep purple flame shot out of each of her palms. DeVaine was focused and knew exactly where the Chort was hiding, cowardly and trying to evade the goddess. She raised her hands together and in a sweeping motion began to burn the ground beneath her. She shaped a ring of burnt earth, encircling the Chort’s hiding place. She toyed with him, knowing she had him trapped with a symbolic ring of fire. She smiled as she brought the scorched earth closer and closer to his area, her fire consuming everything in its path. The once serene and blackened woods now quivered with the intense heat, the inhabitants that called this place home, scattered in a desperate attempt to seek refuge. The flames danced and devoured, driving the animals, led by their instincts, to flee to the untouched recesses of the forest. The flora and the fauna sent out a call to Beatrix, nature whispered a call of urgency. Yet, Beatrix, entrenched in the battle against the encroaching horde, was preoccupied with the immediate threat that loomed in the moonlit darkness. Their sacred land was being overrun with creatures from the depths of hell and her assistance for the blackened forest would have to wait.
Large tears streamed down Beatrix’s face, reflecting the sorrow within her as the cries of the trees vibrated through the enchanted woods. The symphony of nature’s distress echoed in her ears, a heart-wrenching plea for assistance. Yet, she was bound by her duty to the coven and the approaching horde. Beatrix found herself torn between the call of the mystical realm and the threat at hand. Each tear, a reflection of the struggle between duty and empathy, mirrored the delicate balance the witches tried desperately to maintain.
Amelia and Beatrix, in a dynamic display of united elemental powers conjured a revolting display. Beatrix and her ability over fire combined with Amelia’s power over water creating a swirling tempest of steam that billowed forth like a relentless force of nature. The rhythmic pulse between liquid and flame unfolded with mesmerizing precision. Their harmonious collaboration manifested as a scalding vapor enveloping the approaching beasts of the underworld. As the creatures ventured closer, the steam became a formidable barrier, boiling and writhing with elemental energies harnessed by the witches. The enchanted woods echoed with the hiss and sizzle of the beings succumbing to the intense heat. Their malevolent forms dissolved in the steam as they cried out in agony, their howls and anguished screams reverberated across the witches’ domain. Markus, with his psychic powers attuned, observed the fleeting silhouettes of the creatures attempting to escape the scalding embrace of elemental power. As their forms briefly materialized through the dense fog, he harnessed his power and exerted a forceful mental push, sending the retreating beings back into the searing vapor. Markus wielded his psychic influence, orchestrating a symphony of supernatural forces that denied the creature’s exit. The entities, now confined within the relentless heat, succumbed to the combined might of fire, water and psychic manipulation. Other creatures, resilient to the scalding temperatures, ventured forth. Their forms, unaffected by the elemental powers, emerged from the mist like shadows. As the steam billowed and swirled, these tenacious beasts pressed forward, their underworld nature rendering them impervious to the scorching heat.
Creatures of grotesque origin began to emerge. Some were shadows cast in living darkness, they absorbed and manipulated the very absence of light. Their ever shifting viscosity, undulating in a rhythmic pattern, makes the flames unable to penetrate their inky essence. Amelia watched as creatures wrapped in a cloak of living embers radiated and pulsed heat that resembled the glow of burning coals. Fire, rather than harming them, seemed to augment their strength. The molten phantoms came through next, their bodies glowed with an internal heat that surpassed the bowels of the underworld. They were forged from the molten river that flowed through the heart of the blackness. The air around them came in and out of focus from the heat making it shimmer. This rendered them immune to the scalding attempts of the trio. In the spectral tapestry of the underworld, these creatures moved with a grace, their resistance to the earthly elements presented a formidable challenge to the coven’s defenses.
The Invoking Tree, deeply intune with the mystical energies, sent subtle whispers to DeVaine, conveying the unfolding events at the sacred grounds. The ancient murmurs offered glimpses of the ongoing struggle against the relentless hordes of the underworld. The tree’s language, woven with echoes of ancient power, painted vivid canvases of mystical magic, intertwined with DeVaine’s energy. The ancient sentinel spoke of creatures impervious to the elemental forces of the witches. DeVaine knew that the witches needed her assistance, focusing all of her attention on the malevolence in front of her. She was needed elsewhere in the realm.
The Chort, ensnared in a ring of vibrant purple flames, found himself trapped in a macabre cage. The searing heat of the magical flames danced around him. It started to melt his once formidable evil into puddles of thick goo. The flames licked at his demonic essence, rendering him powerless against the formidable goddess. The acrid smell of burning sulfur mingled with wisps of his demonic power created a ghastly smoke. The black fog was thick and putrid. A deep guttural growl came from the Chort as his flesh began to fall off in globs. He tried in vain to hold pieces of himself onto his body, but his greasy flesh was too melted. A sickening sticky sound emitted from the pieces as they fell into the jelly-like substance pooling at his feet. DeVaine tossed her head back and laughed victoriously at his miserable demise. He bubbled and smoked, his tail, completely engulfed with flame whipped back and forth wildly. His matted hair smoked, smelling like burnt feces. Insects born in the depths of hell scrambled out, trying to find cover. A high pitched wailing came from the Chort as the ground beneath him began to crack open. A deep crevasse opened as the pleading moans from the damned filled the air. A bright red glow rose from the crevice, growing brighter as The gash grew wider. The earth cracking and moaning in protest shivered as it tore further open. With one last shriek the Chort vanished, his voice trailing off as he fell farther down to the pit. Slick parts of him slowly slid down the wall, rolling with a life all their own. They pulsed and shifted as one unit. The thick, syrupy remains finally vanished back to the depths, back to reform the Chort. Where once again he would be stuck in the underworld, damned to live in the pit for eternity. DeVaine, extinguishing her flames, smiled broadly. She had vanquished the evil Chort and sent him back to the underworld. Each of the century’s old trees in blackened forest was reduced to ash. Once a lush and impenetrable green fortress now lay in ruin. The smoldering earth, charred beyond recognition, creaked and cracked from the intense heat. DeVaine’s raging inferno left a large, ragged scar across the ancient woods. The moon’s silvery glow enhanced the smoke drifting as the scorched earth continued to smolder. Large pieces of ash wafted across the landscape. The Carpathian mountain bore witness to the damage inflicted by the goddess as they seemed to become melancholy from the loss of life
DeVaine soared gracefully through the moonlit night, abandoning the blackened forest. Its cries for justice rang through the realm. DeVaine was oblivious to the extent of damage she had caused. She sailed through the night sky, toward the invoking Tree and the heart of the coven. As she got closer, the whispers of the witches’ ancient woods conveyed the formidable nature of the creatures that had breached the witches’ lands. As she approached the ceremonial grounds, she could sense the weight of the impending clash. The adversaries, their black evil was a stark contrast to the aura of the witches’ realm. The coven, empowered by the energies of the sacred grove, stood ready to face the relentless forces, an evil that had breached the barrier between worlds. DeVaine landed and was absorbed by the Invoking Tree’s protective veil.
As her hand gently touched the gnarled bark, a conduit opened. “Ancient guardian,” DeVaine implored with both command and respect in her tone. “Please tell me what transpired in my absence and guide me through the knowledge of these creatures.”
The Invoking Tree, its wisdom ran as deep as its roots, responded in the rustling of leaves and whispers carried on the wind. “DeVaine, forces from the depths sought to breach our sanctuary. First soldiers damned to burn for eternity were disintegrated at the edge of the clearing. A few tried to destroy the sacred altar and desecrated the land that the coven holds so dear. They were dealt with in a brutal fashion, deservedly.” DeVaine’s mind filled with the images of the soldiers writhing in pain as every drop of moisture was removed from them. She looked over at Amelia, cautiously admiring her power. The Invoking Tree continued, “creatures born of the underworld seek to destroy everything they touch. Beings of pure evil and chaos, they are a dangerous and slippery adversary.” As the tree continued, DeVaine quietly absorbed all the wisdom it shared. The knowledge it conveyed extended into the unseen realm, its mental roots reaching for answers in the underworld. “Those molten phantoms are resilient, their essence is intertwined with the fabric of the underworld. To extinguish them and snuff out their life force they must be sent asunder and scattered.” The tree paused, allowing its words to linger in the moonlit air. It continued, “Blow them asunder, for the fragments shall have no choice but to return to the underworld from which they came. The combined powers of the coven are the key to being victorious. United, Amelia’s command over water, Beatrix’ enhanced powers over fire and Markus’ psychic prowess are key to destroying the other creatures. Your celestial powers are necessary to defeat the molten phantoms. The witches are powerful and together they make a formidable presence that you should not take for granted. Remember you are bound to Amelia.” DeVaine looked over at Amelia, their eyes met with an unspoken understanding. DeVaine could feel Amelia’s heartbeat in synchrony with her own, a strength that transcended mere words or spells. Bound by destiny and strengthened by the essence of their connection, they readied themselves for the imminent clash. The unity of the coven, amplified by the unique bond between these celestial sisters stood as a force against the ethereal onslaught.
The coven with their collective luminous energies focused on the beings wrapped in living embers. They mindlessly flowed over the ceremonial grounds causing everything to die in their wake. Their total blackness killed the lush, green grass of the clearing. The coven’s harmonious convergence unleashed a cascade of brilliance over the beings. Amelia created a fine mist that slowly wafted down. It reflected the shimmering light causing a blinding burst of energy, enveloping the creatures in a dazzling blister of light. One of the fire beings briefly escaped, swooping into two of the closest coven members. The two witches instantly turned to dust briefly keeping their human form before disintegrating. Their faces frozen in an agonizing scream before vanishing into dust.
Water and fire intertwined, dancing with a brilliant celestial energy of elemental mastery. The power had been unleashed by the coven. Markus, contributing his mental prowess, became the psychic anchor, amplifying the illumination ensuring the light went into each crack and crevice. The hot molten embers began to hiss and steam as the evil was absorbed by the collective light of the coven. Relentless and unforgiving the coven extinguished the beings, a deep hum, vibrated the land. Large chunks of coal fell to the ground, shattering into pieces as they hit the earth. The ground pulled the remains back down to the underworld where they would be twisted and contorted for eternity.
The molten phantoms, watching from afar, undulating their viscous forms momentarily recoiled from the power of the coven. The brilliance of the light confused the medieval beings with the formidable display and they set their sights on DeVaine. In the heart of the enchanted realm, a confrontation unfolded as DeVaine faced off against the molten phantoms. She created a cage of purple ethereal flames that crackled with an otherworldly energy, a boundary that she dared her adversary to breach. The molten phantoms, their masses of spectral energy intensifying surged forward with an elemental fury. Their molten forms shimmering with an eerie glow of fire and shadow. As they collided with the celestial cage, the air vibrated with the clash of opposing forces. DeVaine was pushed backward, temporarily losing her balance in the sky. Her armor pulsated with a lunar vigor, and stood resolute. Its thick, black contours shone in the moonlight. The silver gleam of her eyes reflected the moon’s watchful gaze, her outstretched hands wielded the lunar power. She channeled her celestial energy, reinforcing the barrier and pressing the molten phantoms away from the Invoking Tree and the coven. The phantoms, driven by an insatiable desire to linger in the earthly realm, resisted with a relentless surge of their own. DeVaine responded, each twitch and flick of her fingers casted moonlit sparks that repelled the onslaught.
The molten phantoms, under the relentless pressure from DeVaine’s purple flames, recoiled toward the forest’s edge. Her intent was focused and determined, she conjured her flames into a searing inferno, directing her energy at one of the phantoms. As the flames enveloped the spectral entity, an explosive burst resonated through the enchanted realm. The molten shadow erupted in a blaze of fury, its high pitched wail echoed through the canyon. It bubbled and smoked, bursting into pieces, its essence scattering into charred fragments. The explosion left a profound impact. It created a scorched hole in the sacred ground, smoke wafted up out of the crevice. The shattered remnants of the molten phantom cascaded down to the sacred soil. They sizzled as they hit the blessed ground. There the earth eagerly absorbed the fractured fragments. As if guided by an unseen force, the remnants sank into the ground, returning to the subterranean depths of the underworld. The ritualistic absorption terminated its existence on the natural plane, sending it back to the pit to await another summoning.
The two remaining molten phantoms, unified in their intent, unleashed a formidable force that temporarily overwhelmed DeVaine. They used their collective energy and shot DeVaine out of the sky with a single bright blast of collaborative flame. DeVaine was propelled by the intense surge and sent soaring uncontrollably over the mountainous peaks. She tumbled through the night sky, the moonlit expanse watching her descent. The coven, rooted in the clearing, felt a collective gasp as they observed the turn of events. Every passing moment had the distant silhouette of DeVaine growing fainter and fainter against the backdrop of the nocturnal heavens.
The coven responded by pushing forward, as a single unit they guided their telekinetic powers to the remaining beasts lurking. The combined energies of the coven began to emanate an intense wave of power. As the evil beings began to march toward the witches and warlocks they directed their powers towards them, penetrating their supernatural bodies. The creatures that the underworld had belched forward writhed and convulsed as the radiant energy invaded their spectral bodies. Their fiery bodies began to dissolve, their essences disintegrating under the onslaught of the coven’s collective power. Together they stood resolute, their focus unwavering. Markus stepped forward to hone his psychic power to obliterate the onslaught of evil coming their way.
Markus, caught off guard, faced the relentless assault of one of the hell-spawned hounds. Its gnashing teeth and snarls echoed through the clearing as it clawed at the ground. Its sights were set on Markus, it stalked him as it made circles around the warlock. The being pounced, knocking Markus to the ground. It landed on his chest. The elderly warlock struggled against the ferocious onslaught, attempting to shield himself from the creature’s relentless attack. Markus was becoming overwhelmed by the brutal assault. He tried with physical efforts and psychic manipulation to remove the ferocious creature but it was futile. Despite his screams of agony, the hound continued its savagery, tearing into him with relentless brutality. The hell spawn hound pushed down onto Markus’ chest with its full weight, pinning him to the ground. Its large teeth sliced at his flesh and splintered bones in Markus’ forearm, his entire arm was between the two large jaws. He gasped for breath as he struggled against the weight of the being. Markus’ screams became high pitched pleading as the being pushed down, the sound of his sternum and ribs breaking was deafening. The creature on top of him had pieces of Markus’ cloak caught on one of its lower teeth. It blew playfully in the wind. The hound threw its head back and howled. The roaring howl of the being shook the branches on the nearby trees. Markus tried to lift his hand but to no avail. There was a compound fracture of his forearm, blood poured from the gaping wound. Amelia wanted desperately to get to Markus, she tried to heal him from afar but was unsuccessful. His wounds were too grave. The coven had to act quickly, Markus’ lifeforce was draining, he didn’t have much time remaining. He was being torn to shreds.
The members of the coven harnessed their grief over watching Markus get mauled and focused their collective energy on the wolf-like creature. It was holding Markus’ limp body by the throat as it looked in the direction of the coven. Blood covered Markus’ face and dripped into the sacred soil, foaming and hissing as it splashed onto the creature’s feet. His life force tried to inflict damage as it ran from him. It dropped Markus’ dead body and began to walk slowly toward the Invoking Tree and the coven, its haunches bristling with excitement as it displayed its giant jaws yowling in their direction. The coven was undeterred, they pressed forward with Beatrix and Amelia in the lead, their hands outstretched in front of them and their eyes focused on the creature that just killed Markus.
As the coven intensified their efforts, they walked forward, their collective might shone brightly around them. Their light pulsed toward the creature, created by the combined powers of the sisters. Beatrix and Amelia stepped forward, their determination apparent in their movements. Together in unison, they lifted their hands to the darkened sky, collecting the lunar power within themselves. They shot their arms down and sent a blast of bright lavender smoke towards the hound. The being of the underworld convulsed and contorted in a vortex of swirling shadows and the ethereal, pale purple light. The rise of unearthly howls began to reach an apex of deafening sound, collapsing into a short whimper. The creature started to jerk and then collapsed. Black smoke began to rise from its head and shoulders. It swirled with the shadows created by the coven. Its eyes pleaded with the coven as it imploded upon itself and vanished in a burst of bright, blinding, red energy. It left behind the eerie echoes of its demise that reverberated through the clearing.
DeVaine came rocketing back to the Invoking Tree and the sacred lands, enriched from the moon’s glow, she landed. Now radiant with lunar power, she stood as a celestial barrier between the coven and the encroaching molten phantoms. They had been floating towards the ceremonial grounds slowly, plotting their next move to destroy the coven. They wanted to unleash all of the creatures of the underworld onto the surface of the planet. The molten phantoms wanted to bring forth chaos, the first step in those plans was to remove the coven. DeVaine’s eyes shone a shining silver as she summoned the strength of the moon to repel the advancing darkness. DeVaine raised her arms, fingers intertwined with moonlit energy. She created a silver aura around her. The shadows recoiled, hissing as they met the luminous force. Each step forward for them was met with a surge of lunar power, they continued to advance as their molten shapes undulated faster and faster. Their viscosity thinned out as they moved with conviction and blended in and out of each other. It was hard to identify individuals as they mixed into one concoction of evil. DeVaine did not waver, she continued to push the molten creatures, now blended into a monstrosity of blackness, toward the depths from which they came. The air crackled and popped with the clash of celestial and underworld beings as DeVaine defended the coven.
She extended her arms, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, towards the molten phantoms. As she channeled her powers, beams of silver light surrounded them, lifting them off the ground. The grotesque creature writhed and contorted, unable to escape the lunar force. A final burst of radiant energy from DeVaine, causing a deafening sonic boom, blew up the blended, heinous being. When the brute was pulverized, it sent out a shock wave that made the coven stagger and fall to the ground. Their pieces scattered into the shadows, dissipating into the night and banished back to the realm from which they came. Tree roots, dirt, rocks and bits of evil rained down on the sacred land when Devaine dispatched the darkness. The ceremonial clearing and parts of the enchanted forest were destroyed. DeVaine’s power was immense and the planet cried out from the wounds inflicted upon it during the battle.
CHAPTER 17
THE AFTERMATH
Within the sacred depths of the earth, Mother Nature heeded the cries of distress echoing through the soil. She could sense an imbalance caused by the recent battles She searched her subterranean realm. Her essence reached out to the wounded spirit of the land as she hunted for the source of the sadness and pain. Guided by an unwavering commitment to restoration, she embarked on a journey to investigate what had transpired on the surface.
Mother Nature, emerging from the depth, witnessed the aftermath of the fierce confrontation between DeVaine and the Chort. The once thriving forest, now tarnished by the residue of dark energies, stood as a testament to the battle’s toll. She surveyed the destruction and she grieved for the wounded land. Trees stood as solemn reminders, their once lush canopies were now cruelly shorn off. The earth, marred by gaping craters and scorched soil, bore the scars of the intense struggle between the light and the darkness. Mother Nature began to cry, looking at her beloved planet and the scorched earth left behind. Her tears, like liquid blessings, fell upon the desecrated land. The desolate soil, once cracked and barren, now cradled the emergence of vibrant greenery. Grasses sprouted, reaching for the heavens, as if granting itself solace from the earth god’s lament. In the wake of her tears, life sprung anew, the boundless resilience of the land was evident.
With her ethereal senses heightened, she detected the lingering echoes of evil intertwined with the essence of DeVaine. She could smell the acrid scent of burnt sulfur mixed with the fragrant bouquet of the goddess. The air carried the scent of both darkness and the unique fragrance of the lunar powered being. Her ancient wisdom stirred, recognizing the delicate balance between light and shadow that unfolded upon her domain.
Mother Nature wept openly, casting seeds out of her fingertips as she strolled through the barren clearing. The trees closest to the clearing responded to her wails, flowering and fruiting spontaneously as she walked past. She abruptly stopped crying and paused at the very spot the Chort met his demise. She tilted her head back and inhaled deeply through her nose, wrinkling it in repulsion from the dense smell of rotting flesh mixed with sulfur. She shook her head and like a halo around her, seeds of every kind fell to the soil. Instantly growing and producing fragrant blooms to counteract the stench, Mother Nature looked to the moon and spoke telepathically to it. “Tell me now, where she is. I own you. You are only here because of my beautiful blue planet. I command you to tell me where DeVaine is hiding.”
The moon’s shade of shimmering silver turned a deep blue, “Guardian of the planet, she is with the coven in the enchanted forest, and your beloved tree. She does not hide from you, she protected the coven from the evil”
Mother Nature furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, “And destroyed my planet in the process. My main focus is the sanctity of the land, the sea and the sky. I will not tolerate such disrespect to me and my world.” Mother Nature knew exactly where she was going, with a flick of her wrist she vanished into the ground, down to her subterranean world.
DeVaine and the coven surveyed the casualties and the land, the coven was shocked and dismayed at the sight of their beloved sacred grounds. Their altar lay in ruins, the ceremonial clearing had been destroyed. It still smoldered in places. A was a stark contrast to the mystical energy that once pulsed through the land. Large scars left by the battle against the forces of evil littered the earth, showing the devastation of their domain.
Beatrix and Amelia, with heavy hearts, gathered the fallen comrades beneath the Invoking Tree. Amelia, using her power over water, tried to offer comfort to the wounded. She gently tended them, providing what healing she could to the wounded. Some of the brothers’ and sisters’ wounds were too grave and Beatrix offered comforting words as they crossed over to the other side. The air was thick with sorrow as the coven faced the toll of the stand against the darkness. The Invoking Tree solemnly lowered its branches, cradling the bodies of the fallen coven members. A sacred and sorrowful moment unfolded as the tree, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of life, accepted the weight of those who fought so bravely against the darkness. It lifted the limp and mangled bodies of the fallen and tenderly intertwined the bodies into the soil at its base. Their memories and spirits became part of the essence of the tree, fostering the eternal connection between the coven and the sacred ground.
The other warlocks carried Markus’ torn body to the base of the tree. Placing Markus on the ground, they went to one knee and placed one dirty hand on their forehead. In Unison, they bowed their heads. They began to chant softly. The Invoking Tree seemed to weep as it lifted Markus into the air, cradling him. Its sadness caused the soft ethereal beings to take flight. They floated around Markus as they set him gently onto the ground. Their bodies shimmering in the early dawn sun. The warlocks stood and bowed towards the tree. Taking their place with the coven as they mourn their dead collectively.
Amelia, with a heavy heart, led the coven in a solemn prayer, her voice echoing through the ancient forest. They honored the fallen and sought solace in the bonds of their mortal domain.
“In the hallowed embrace of this ancient grove, underneath the dawn’s gentle, guiding love. We stand united, hearts heavy with sorrow, seeking strength for a brighter tomorrow. Lost companions, now part of the earth, their spirits linger, celebrating rebirth. May the roots of this tree, deep and profound, connect us with the energy that forever surrounds.” She paused and looked lovingly at the coven, all standing hand in hand with their heads bowed, she smiled. “Guide their souls through the astral tide, in the realm where spirits eternally abide. With love, we release them to the cosmic stream, embracing memories like a sacred dream. Grant us resilience to face the path ahead, a tapestry woven with the living and the dead. Through the cycles of nature, life’s endless dance, we find solace in this sacred trance. In unity we rise from the shadows of despair, bound by magic, with the compassion we share. Blessed be.”
The witches with reverence for the fallen, meticulously rebuilt their altar on the scarred and sacred ground. Each stone place with care carried the weight of memories and echoes of the departed. As they worked the air resonated with incantations, weaving a bond of renewal and remembrance. The altar, rising from the wounded earth, stood as a beacon to the resilience of the coven. Their enduring strength was a connection to the mystical forces that bound them together.
Beatrix began to try and heal the land. Her enhanced abilities with the earth together along with the other elementals in the coven, tried in vain to repair the damage inflicted. It was an impossible task, the scars left behind resisted immediate restoration. The witches gazed upon the struggling land, understanding the depth of the destruction that lay before them. Beatrix called out to Mother Nature for assistance.
Mother Nature, knowing that Beatrix was near DeVaine, answered her call, emerging from the earth with a deep rumble. Her presence, like a soothing balm, sent a wave of calmness across the coven. All of them, collectively, went to one knee, their heads bowed in respect to the guardian of the planet. Beatrix approached her, seeking guidance and assistance in healing the deep scars inflicted upon the earth. Beatrix abruptly stopped when Mother Nature raised her hand towards her.
Her voice resonating like rustling leaves and echoing through the air, spoke to the coven and DeVaine. Her words are stern yet solemn. “I have bore witness to the atrocities inflicted upon my realm.” Her words carried the weight of centuries. “This planet is a sanctuary for life and its balance has endured wounds that run deep.” Her eyes reflected the ageless wisdom of the planet itself. “I am the guardian of life, the steward of the delicate equilibrium that sustains all life. Those who sought to desecrate this sacred land have invoked my wrath that echoes through the very roots of existence.” Mother Nature was staring down DeVaine. “Your powers, while potent, must be wielded with an understanding of the delicate harmony that sustains life. The fate of this world rests not only in the hands of mortals but also in the choices made by those who hold the power of the divine.” Mother Nature took a deep breath and blew a large sigh into the crater she was standing in. Green grasses began to grow under her. She continued, “Daughter of the moon, your actions have stirred the very core of the planet. I can feel the echoes of turmoil you unleashed upon my creation. Apologize for the destruction wrought upon the sacred land. The earth demands respect.” The Invoking Tree began to pull its branches closer to the coven, its color changed from a vibrant bright blue to a deep turquoise.
DeVaine standing tall and defiant, retorted to Mother Nature. “Your realm was threatened by a force that would have laid waste to all life. I did what was necessary to protect it. If you cannot see the sacrifice and the battles fought in the name of preservation, then perhaps your perspective needs adjusted. Apologize for saving your realm? That’s not a demand that I am willing to entertain.” DeVaine turned her back on the steward of the planet, shifting her focus to flying off, she leapt into the air and bolted through the dawning sky. She left the coven stunned by her words of defiance towards Mother Nature.
In the soft glow of the moon, DeVaine found solace on the other side of the planet. She sought refuge in the lunar embrace as the sun bathed the opposite hemisphere in its warm light. There, hidden from the harsh rays of the day, she contemplated the events that had transpired. She thought of the battles fought and the consequences that lingered in the wounds of the land. DeVaine felt that she had done nothing wrong, there were mortal casualties as well as scars upon the land and that was unfortunate but she had saved this realm from extinction. She thought Mother nature would have been grateful for her sacrifice in defeating the evil that had infected her domain but she seemed angry at the collateral damage. This confused the lunar goddess. She sought to seek understanding in the embrace of her lunar home. The moon, faithful to its celestial duty, cast its silvery glow upon DeVaine, offering a sanctuary under its watchful radiance. Yet, in this luminous refuge, the moon’s loyalty remained bound by the ties of the natural world. This left DeVaine in a delicate balance between the heavenly realm and the earthly consequences.
The moon’s voice echoed through the darkened expanse, conveying a solemn message to DeVaine. “In the tapestry of cosmic allegiance, my loyalty spans the realms of Mother Nature and yours, goddess. Harmony must be preserved, and your sanctuary shall dwell within my luminous embrace. You have made my situation precarious and dangerous.” The moon began to rise higher in the night sky. “In the celestial dance, I shall provide you with refuge, but, the cosmic balance bids me to remain uninvolved in the conflicts that unfold.” The moon emitted a soft glow onto DeVaine, making her scaly skin shimmer in its healing embrace. “Mother Nature is a formidable force, and her wrath echoes through the very roots of the planet. I am certain that the Invoking Tree can feel her anger and disdain.”
DeVaine spoke to the moon, her voice carried on the moonbeams, “I want to know why Mother Nature is so ungrateful. I want to know why she doesn’t see that I saved her realm from annihilation. I do not understand her arrogance.”
The moon responded, “Mother Nature is the guardian of this planet, and any disturbance to the natural balance deeply affects her. She is in tune with the trials and tribulations of this ever changing and moving world. Your actions, though well-intended, disrupted that balance. She seeks to restore harmony and she demands respect for her creation.”
On the other side of the planet, in the morning sun, Mother Nature and the coven began to prepare for the massive clean up that was facing them. The daunting task of reestablishing the coven’s sacred ceremonial clearing was the first place that they would focus. Beatrix and Amelia could feel the energy of the forest change, their elemental powers in tune with the vibrations of the enchanted forest. They looked at the low hanging fog that surrounded the clearing, walking through the mist like phantoms, the villagers began to emerge. Axes, shovels and tools of every kind came into focus. The villagers, previously misguided by the corrupted soldiers, approached the coven with remorse in their eyes. They witnessed the destruction caused by the Chort’s influence and they sought redemption and a renewed sense of community filled the air. Together they labored to heal the land and to rectify the damage inflicted during the battle against evil. Some of the carpenters began the intimidating task of rebuilding the witches’ homes, most were leveled by the explosions. Their belongings lay strewn across the landscape. The villagers, once terrified of the enchanted woods and the coven that lived in them, now worked hand in hand with the witches to restore the balance. The compassionate women of the village provided nourishment to sustain the witches during their time of bereavement and their efforts to rebuild. The collaborative spirit between the coven and the villagers strengthened as they sought to restore both the physical and spiritual aspects of the community.
Mother nature strolled through the forest, she wanted to repair the damage done to the internal structure of the land. She had a gentle touch, and healed the wounds inflicted upon the trees, spreading seeds as she walked. The flora and fauna responded with gratitude, their vitality returning as her power coursed through the land. The once devastated forest now stood healed, its lush floor and lofty canopy, rejuvenated, seemed to blush with reverence. She stood at the edge of the clearing, raised her hands towards the shining sun, and a cascade of water showered the land. Mother Nature, floating in the air, smiled broadly, seeds falling from under her petticoats. The damaged and scorched ground began to rejuvenate. Grass sprouted anew, and the torched earth was replaced with vibrant, healthy soil. The border of the ceremonial grounds transformed into a flourishing blanket of life, restoring the balance that had been disrupted by the recent battles.
She focused her energies on the large craters left in the ground from the battles. She guided the earth to close these wounds. The soil shifted and resettled, filling in the gaps, while rejuvenating the power of nature. She worked tirelessly to erase the scars left by the destructive forces. Slowly but surely, the landscape began to regain its natural beauty.
CHAPTER 18
MOTHER NATURE AND DeVAINE
As dusk settled over the clearing, Mother Nature stood in the center, she was awaiting the lunar goddess. Her presence commanding attention, she scanned her surroundings and was pleased with the progress of the restoration. The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and tension. DeVaine emerged from her sanctuary in the moon’s glow, approached cautiously, aware of the impending confrontation with the angered guardian of the planet. The two powerful entities faced each other in the diminishing light, the clash of elemental powers was imminent. DeVine stepped into the clearing, looked at Mother Nature with a mix of awe and of defiance. “Why are you so angry? I saved your realm from the clutches of darkness. This is the thanks that I get? Shouldn’t you be grateful?” Her tone was sharp yet questioning.
Mother Nature’s anger resonated in her voice. “You speak of saving, but at what cost? The life, the creatures, the very essence of the sacred land has been marred by you. By your quest for adoration from the coven and the villagers, it blinded you to the fact that you have destroyed my beautiful blue planet. Not just one area, either. You have devastated the land from here to the mountains and beyond. Your actions, however noble in intention, have consequences. I demand respect for the balance that has been disrupted.” Her words carried the weight of centuries.
DeVaine with defiance in her voice, retorted. “Ungrateful guardian of the land, I protected your precious realm from the malevolent force. Perhaps I should have let it burn and let the darkness consume everything. You were so concerned about your planet that you were nowhere to be seen when the battle raged. Where were you when the land was crying out to you? Where were you when life was being snuffed out? Where were you when the evil plague invaded your realm?”
Mother Nature was beginning to lose her patience, dark storm clouds began to form above her. Lightning lashed at the land and thunder rumbled through the valley. “While you were battling in one corner of the world I was tending to the needs of the entire planet. Storms were needed for crops, and you cannot grasp the interconnected balance of life that I maintain.” Mother Nature sighed deeply. “I do not need to answer to anyone for my actions concerning this world. I am the guardian and I will do just that…guard the planet. How dare you question my actions, you are a mere goddess of the moon. I am the venerable steward of this planet and I will never allow such disrespect.” Mother nature purposely allowed lightning to strike right in front of DeVaine. She continued, “I am the most powerful in this world. I am all powerful on your beloved moon. Your brother, the sun god, is even under my control. I will not allow you to stand here and question my authority.” Mother nature began to pace, large hail rocks started to fall around the perimeter of the clearing. “I even permitted this confrontation to happen when your celestial homeworld was risen in the night sky. I knew exactly where you were hiding. I had other more pressing issues than to deal with a petty lunar goddess. I had a planet to repair.” A sudden gust of wind erupted from Mother Nature, shaking the clearing and rustling the newly reconstructed trees. The air around her carried an implicit warning. The tension in the air was thick as DeVaine was unfazed.
“Oh, a little wind…is that all you got?”
Mother Nature shot the wind straight at the lunar goddess, sheer vengeance filled her eyes. DeVaine flew backwards and into the trees, they seemed to brace her from crashing through. The branches of the old forest caught her and tossed her back into the clearing. DeVaine slid across the ground, grasping at grasses as she slid. Mother nature lifted her finger and DeVaine stopped abruptly. “That is a mere example of the power that I wield. You need to apologize for your insolence, goddess.” When she said, “goddess” she hissed it at DeVaine.
Mother Nature lifted her hands to the heavens, lightning shot out of the sky and into each finger. She lowered her hands, aiming her power around DeVaine, creating a cascade of sparks as the smell of burnt ozone filled the air. Mother Nature’s eyes rolled over white as the bright electrical energy surged through her. DeVaine, surrounded by the electrical crackles, felt the raw power of nature closing in. The lightning strikes emphasized Mother Nature’s displeasure, demanding respect for her domain and for her power.
DeVaine, taking advantage of her connection to Amelia, drew on her prowess over the air She began to channel the energy into a focused burst. She unleashed it towards the guardian of the planet. Mother Nature, slightly staggered by the gust of wind, roared back in fury. She bent at the waist and screamed in DeVaine’s direction. The wind caused DeVaine to careen over the clearing, sliding to a stop at the edge of the forest.
DeVaine called out to the moon to intervene and help her with its moonbeam glow. The moon expressed its loyalty to both DeVaine and Mother Nature but conveyed its inability to help or take sides in the conflict. Mother Nature was eavesdropping and threw her head back, she laughed heartily. “I heard every word that the moon has said to you.” She laughed again. “I knew that it would not help you. I do not require help from a lesser being such as that satellite planet. I can destroy you without even trying. I am trying to maintain the balance as you with the moon and your brother with the sun. I cannot have one celestial body with a guardian and not the other. I do not want to kill you DeVaine, but I will if it’s necessary.”
DeVaine, fueled by her anger and blinded by rage, began to glow with an intense purple light. She floated in the air with her head back, the aura surrounding her grew brighter and brighter as it pulsed faster and faster. Mother Nature watched in awe at the power of the lunar goddess being displayed. She harnessed her elemental abilities and shot a bright pulse of light towards Mother Nature, it soared across the clearing. The bright purple flame sent Mother Nature sprawling, temporarily overwhelmed by the fiery assault. The clearing was instantly bathed in a bright flash of purple flame. As Mother Nature rose, she seemed to shed seeds that scattered around her. Each one immediately began to sprout. The air around her was always filled with the promise of growth and renewal even in the midst of the tension between the two powerful beings.
As the coven stood witnessing the confrontation between the two powerful, divine beings, a mixture of concern and confusion was etched upon their faces. The two entities clashed, each representing a potent force and the coven could only watch. The collective hope was for a quick resolution, uncertain of the outcome or the consequences that it would bring. The Invoking Tree, sensing the unease that swept through the coven, tried to assure them that Mother Nature would emerge victorious. Her victory was essential in sustaining the balance of the natural forces that governed the planet. Its ancient branches whispered comforting words, urging the witches to trust in the intricate dance of the elements.
DeVaine took to the sky, soaring high above the sacred grounds, into the awaiting moonlight. Mother Nature shot from the ground and was in pursuit. As they rose, the two celestial beings’ silhouettes were etched onto the black sky by the bright moonlight. They stopped and squared off with one another again. The two divine beings rushed at each other, crashing into one another as a shockwave hit the earth and moon. The celestial orbs vibrated in unison. The two forces grappled with each other, their powers clashing in a spectacular display of natural forces. Lightning streaked across the heavens, and gusts of wind whirled around them as they vied for dominance. The coven watched with a mix of awe and trepidation, uncertain of the outcome of this clash between the two titans.
As Mother Nature and DeVaine pushed off of each other, the tension in the battle escalated. Mother Nature’s patience was wearing thin and her elemental wrath intensified. The clash of their powers resonated through the air, creating harmonizing forces that shook the trees. DeVaine was tossed backward as Mother Nature’s lightning struck her in the chest. The crackling energy left a visible imprint on her. But the elemental goddess gathered herself, determined to stand her ground, she came bounding back. She was flying at Mother Nature, all of her power behind her, she aimed to strike a powerful blow. Her hands were balled into fists and her elbows locked as she rocketed towards Mother Nature. She came flying out of the mist, catching Mother Nature somewhat off guard, she had time to brace herself for the inevitable clash. The collision between Mother Nature and DeVaine sent shockwaves through the sky, their forces intertwined in a fierce struggle. As they careened through the air the very essence of nature and moon clashed. The coven, watching from the clearing, was thrown to the ground by the force of the shockwave. They struggled against the powerful, hurricane force winds that blew through their sacred lands, the Invoking Tree groaning as its ancient branches were tossed. The air was charged with the celestial battle unfolding above.
As they were tumbling with each other, Mother Nature, her patience finally exhausted, seized DeVaine by the throat with one hand. In her other hand was the sheer energy of lightning, it lashed at the clouds around her. Her eyes had rolled over white and she spoke in a booming voice. “Goddess. You have crossed the line. I would surrender my life for the preservation of this planet. But, you, pathetic creature, will not be the cause of my demise. I have been patient with your insolence and now you will pay.” The confrontation had reached its peak as Mother Nature landed in the clearing, holding DeVaine in front of her and off the ground. Mother Nature continued her rant. “I have been the guardian of this world since the dawn of time. This being has tried to remove me from my domain.” She lifted her other hand into the air, lightning soared into the heavens from every fingertip. She tossed DeVaine onto the ground, the lunar goddess struggling to stand. Mother Nature pushed wind to knock her back down everytime she stood. “You will remain on the ground. I am not finished yet. I am doing my best to control my wrath that you have made boil to an almost uncontrollable level. You are so very, very lucky that I have shown some restraint. I care not that you are a lunar goddess. Mark my words, DeVaine, this will never happen again.” She stomped her foot, sending the earth around DeVaine to shoot down, collapsing into a deep chasm. Mother Nature floated over to the edge, “I have endured and I will continue to endure. I will protect this realm from you and anybody or anything else that seeks to destroy it. I will also protect my sovereignty over this domain. I am the guardian. I am the god of this world. I am the beginning and the end for this planet. I have created all of this. I am needed. The planet would not survive without my guidance and stewardship. You are the goddess of the moon, a mere satellite planet for this realm. The moon would remain above this planet and survive long without you! You were granted permission through a summoning to bring you to this realm, I do not need the help of witches to wield my power, I am Mother Nature and I do not need the help from mere humans.” The goddess tried to stand and Mother Nature blew wind to knock her back down, “You will stay where I tell you to stay. I will destroy you if you defy me once more.” Mother Nature, in a voice as thunderous as her storms declared to DeVain, “Stand, but remember your place in the delicate balance of this world.”
DeVaine had to swallow her pride, realizing the magnitude of her actions. She bowed her head, going to her knees, showing respect to the venerable guardian. “Mother Nature, I humbly apologize. My intent was to protect not destroy. I needed to rid the land of evil so it could prosper and to restore the balance of good and evil to your realm. I see now my unintended consequence had a devastating effect on your beloved planet.”
“Stand, fool.” Mother Nature, with a flick of her wrist, lifted DeVaine up to her feet. “Do not test me again. I will not be merciful.”
“I acted to save this realm from the great evil that threatened to consume it. I seek your forgiveness and guidance on how to rectify the damage.”
Mother Nature began to rise over the chasm, her hair blowing wildly around her head, lightning lashed at the ground around DeVaine. Wind swirled as she began to rise even higher, her hands at her side, lightning streamed from her fingertips. Her voice booming and echoing through the canyon. “I am Mother Nature, I am the guardian of this domain. You are granted a reprieve. I will not tolerate insolence, you shall remain in your moon’s aura where you belong. But, you will stay on this world until I am pleased with the repairs. Your reckoning will be great.” She floated down onto the grass beneath her, dropping seeds and blowing them in the winds as she landed. “These are my terms. non-negotiable and absolute. Do you understand?”
DeVaine nodded her head towards Mother Nature. The guardian of the planet pursed her lips. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question. Do not just nod your head at me.” Mother Nature’s patience had been worn away and she continued. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother Nature. I understand.”
Mother Nature’s hands were on her hips as she stared at the defeated goddess. She huffed in the direction of DeVaine and shot into the air. Mother Nature could feel a sudden and deliberate attack on her planet. Internally, Mother Nature was crying. She would never allow her emotions to be shown. She could feel searing pain as the planet called out for justice, never had she felt such disrespect for the environment, such a loss of life. This event was like nothing she had ever felt or witnessed. Concern washed over her face as she could feel the earth melting on an island in the Pacific Ocean. The anguished shrieks called for a retribution to the injustice that it had suffered, a silent cry echoing a catastrophic event in Hiroshima. She needed to get there to offer solace and healing to the wounded lands. She was attuned to the very heartbeat of the planet. The detection of a profound disturbance emanating from the island with a devastating impact.
A large sigh of relief escaped the goddess as Mother Nature unexpectedly catapulted herself into the heavens. She was left with a feeling of defeat, a foreign emotion to the divine being. DeVaine, bound by Mother Nature’s directive, worked alongside the coven, the villagers and the elemental forces to rebuild the devastated areas. She utilized her connection to the moon to draw upon its power and aid in the healing process. Together, they sought to repair the land, mend the wounds inflicted during the conflict and restore the delicate balance that had been disrupted.
Once the land was returned to its former splendor, DeVaine needed to be sent back. The combined powers of the witches aimed to respectfully conclude DeVaine’s presence on Earth. They needed to maintain the equilibrium of the natural forces.
The ceremonial ritual unfolded under the guidance of The Invoking Tree. The witches formed a sacred circle around DeVaine, intertwining their powers with the elements. Their sacred ceremonial grounds were restored to pristine condition. The altar that was smashed had been rebuilt with the hallowed stones from the river below. They stood in the center of their beloved circle and joined hands. Amelia invoked her mastery over water, creating a serene flow that encircled the lunar goddess. Beatrix with her elemental prowess over fire, conjured gentle flames, symbolizing the essence of the moon. Other members of the coven chanted ancient incantations, their words resonating with the earth beneath them. As the ritual progressed, the atmosphere became charged with mystical energy. The Invoking Tree extended its branches towards the moon, establishing a connection between the earth and the celestial realm. The witches synchronized their powers, weaving a tapestry of magic that would guide DeVaine back to her lunar abode. Amidst the chants and elemental displays DeVaine felt the energies envelop her. The moon, a distant observer, seemed to acknowledge the proceedings. The ritual aimed to bid farewell to the lunar goddess, ensuring a harmonious departure that would restore the balance of nature. As she sank into the ground, she began to become translucent and like a wisp of smoke in a summer breeze, she vanished.